


The Dragon

by qcube



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bucky is a dragon, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Slavery references, Slow Burn, Steve has issues about his body, Tony is a good (yet invading) good bro, Violence, Weird military procedures, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-10-02 22:05:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 53,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10228499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qcube/pseuds/qcube
Summary: Steve Rogers has managed to enter the military despite all of his body's ailments. After a few weeks of training, the new recruits are sent on their first real mission (a Reaping mission), where they'll need to survive four days on a tropical island with barely any supplies. But the challenge doesn't end there: the island is populated by mythical creatures of all sorts. Some harmless, others... not so much. As fate would have it, Steve's experience of his first Reaping is very different from his peers'.





	1. The Reaping

**Author's Note:**

> A few things to start up with: this story is mainly a huge melting pot of a bunch of other stories I like. I took inspiration from Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, The Golden Compass, How To Train Your Dragon, Fullmetal Alchemist... you name it. But I do think that, in the end, I came up with a concept that is unique and not entirely tied to these universes. 
> 
> Also, it's been YEARS since I've written anything. So feedback and critique of what I do here is really appreciated. I'm not beta'd either (and I'm not even a native English speaker for that matter). Therefore, if you find mistakes (spelling or otherwise), please do tell. I'll do my best to answer any question you may have about the universe as well.

“Fourteen! Fifteen!”

 

Steve’s thin arms shook under the strain of the push ups, fat drops of sweat splattering the ground under his reddened face. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to forget about the burning in his muscles and the ache in his calves from running prior to this. Most of all, he desperately tried to forget about the humiliation of tripping and dragging one third of the group down with him as they were on said run.

 

“Twenty! Twenty-one!”

 

For the fourth time since he had arrived at the Tower, Steve had managed to cost the new recruits a round of extra workout because of his mistakes. To be fair, the guy running behind him could have avoided tripping if he hadn’t followed Steve so close from behind. 

 

“Thirty-six! Thirty-seven-- keep up, soldiers!”

 

His timing was way off on this one, tomorrow was too important for the rest of the group to have one more reason to shun Steve away. He’d have to brace himself for the inevitable hardships. And to think he believed actually  _ enrolling  _ was the real feat in this whole military situation.

 

When agent Carter finally shouted the long awaited “One hundred!”, Steve’s entire strength left him at once and he stayed face down on the ground. Some harsh comments were made in his direction as the rest of the group exited the perimeters, but fortunately none of them made the effort to call out to him like they did the last time.

 

“Hey there, champ,” a familiar voice chanted.

 

“Not now, Nat,” Steve mumbled, forehead still firmly against the soil.

 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, half of them are too embarrassed about that fall to blame you for it.” The side smile could be heard in her voice. Of course, Nat hadn’t taken the fall. She’d been running ahead with the top-tier recruits, as usual. 

 

“They know I was the first to trip. And because of that, tomorrow’ll be even worse...”

 

“Are you thinking about quitting, then?”

 

Steve raised his head, immediately feeling dumb for taking the bait. “‘Couse not,” he chewed out. He had tried for an entire year to get enlisted, but his health issues had always forbidden him from clearing any medical test thrown his way. Until, of course, that fateful day he met Dr. Erskine and the man gave him the chance he had been hoping for. There was no way he would be stepping out unless he was explicitly dismissed.

 

“Come on, let’s go grab food before there’s none left. I heard they were serving extra portions to keep up our strength for tomorrow,” Natasha announced, pulling Steve upright on his feet. He wobbled slightly to his right, lightheaded.

 

They made their way across the training grounds, exhaustion radiating off of Steve’s small frame, while Natasha still had a spring in her strut. 

 

“Nat, tomorrow…” Steve looked down at his dirty shoes. “I know you said that you’d stick by my side, but… I’d understand if you didn’t want me to tag along.”

 

His friend stopped in her tracks and turned to give him a leveled look. “Steve. I’m sticking to what I told you. This Reaping mission it’s… it’s too important. And you’re better at scavenging edibles and rooting out the poisonous plants than me, so… what, you’re going to leave a girl to her own devices to find food? Such a great friend you are…” 

 

“I’m not stupid, Nat. You’ll be lucky if I don’t slow you down. And if you fail this mission because of me, I’m… I don’t…”

 

“It’ll be fine, Steve. You’re over thinking it, just let it go. I can make these decisions for myself.” She shoved his shoulder amiably as they continued walking towards the Tower. “Come on, forget about today, let’s just go eat.”

 

Steve gave a soft smile and sighed. “Fine.”

 

\-------------------------------

 

As soon as the chicken pie slice was on his platter, Steve discreetly exited the cafeteria and made his way to the elevators. If Natasha saw him sneaking away, she didn’t attempt to stop him. She probably understood that he needed to be alone and prepare for the Reaping. Moreover, sitting amongst the people he had tripped wasn’t a joyful option.

 

Despite everything, agent Carter was also waiting for a lift, alongside her chimera. The terrifying beast was always with his tamer, valiantly keeping all the recruits in check. As if agent Carter herself wasn’t the embodiment of authority. Steve firmly believed she didn’t need that massive creature to have soldiers complying, but it sure as hell helped to have a fire-breathing, two-headed beast tag along.

 

Steve avoided staring directly at the creature (out of respect or fear, he didn’t quite know), hoping that his superior wouldn’t bring up the recent incident. 

 

“Are you prepared for tomorrow, Steve?” she asked instead.

 

He looked up at her, slightly taken aback and bitter about broaching the subject again. “I think so, ma’am.”

 

“Good.” A fat pause ensued, where the soft whirr of the elevators’ mechanisms echoed.

 

“I don’t… I’m very sorry about what happened today, ma’am,” Steve stuttered.

 

Both agent Carter and the lion head of the chimera stared directly at Steve. “The blunder’s been paid for,” she replied, not unkindly. The elevator door dinged and slid open, letting her in alongside the chimera. “Don’t be late tomorrow morning, Steve.” The metallic doors shut, quickly ending the exchange.

 

It made Steve feel slightly better that she didn’t seem to hold him completely accountable for the mess. Maybe that meant that the others didn’t either, however unlikely. Steve reached for the dial pad to call his lift and entered the library’s coordinates, balancing his food platter on his tired left arm.

 

The Tower was the most interesting building Steve had ever set foot in and he was enamored from the first time he saw it. It had been designed by Howard Stark, one of the founders of the Shield program, as the center pillar for the training grounds. It encompassed all the site’s main activities, each level dedicated to a specific area of expertise. The higher the level, the more confidential the operation (or at least that’s how Steve understood it, as the newest recruits were restricted to the first three). All the heads of operation resided on the upper floors.

 

His lift arrived rapidly, and he reached the library on the second floor in no time. Since it was dinner hour, it was mostly empty and Steve gladly found a withdrawn desk to settle and eat at. 

 

He spent the rest of the evening hidden away there, rereading the multiple documents he could find on Reaping missions. Most of the things he found, he already knew.

 

Every new recruit had to pass it in order to be considered a full-fledged Shield member. The mission was very simple: they were to survive on a tropical island for four consecutive days without food rations and with barely any tools. It was an exceptionally convenient way of weeding out the rookies who weren’t cut out for the job. It was no secret that Steve desperately hoped that his grocery list of impairments wouldn’t get in the way of him surviving these four days. The island on which they were dropped had thick vegetation, which meant there would be food to be found in the forest, but it was also filled with mythical creatures that would prey on easy targets. There weren’t a whole lot of places in the world where creatures such as these still thrived, yet this island had intentionally been preserved by Shield for training its soldiers. The recruits weren’t expected to tame any of these creatures, but it was customary for top-tiers to come back with a beast. A lot of prestige was attributed to those who managed it, especially on their first Reaping. On the other hand, between twenty-five and fifty percent of the group was dismissed from the Shield program after these missions.

 

Steve spent the rest of his free evening reviewing his botanical knowledge and general forest survival techniques. He was most desperate to not be a burden to Natasha and offer as much help as he could, never forgoing the fact that he was clearly not the athletic type who’d hunt a boar down.

 

Even though he was grateful for the opportunity to be included in the program, it constantly reminded him of how his body was unfit for intensive physical activities. Everyday was a struggle. Everyday, he was grudgingly unaccepting of his body’s meager progress.

 

When the sun covered the training grounds in a fiery red light, exhaustion started catching up with the young soldier and he made his way back to reach the dormitory building. 

 

\-------------------------------

 

Strangely enough, sleep came quickly to Steve. The tiresome regimen of the day had his entire body shutting down rather smoothly, and he welcomed it with open arms. On a regular evening, his top-bunk partner would fall asleep first and snore his lungs out so loudly, Steve often had to sleep with his head under his covers and pillow. He wondered if it was a test for him to have been partnered with the loudest sleeper among all the other recruits. 

 

However, Steve was well aware that these sleeping accommodations were temporary. Once their first Reaping mission was passed, the successful recruits would be placed within smaller dorm rooms and bunk alongside their assigned teammates. Steve hoped his team members would be silent sleepers. He also hoped he’d actually pass the Reaping.

 

His slumber was brutally halted as a soft hand was placed over his mouth. His eyes fluttered opened quickly, Steve’s heart sinking with the reasoning that the hand belonged to a fellow recruit wanting revenge on the day’s punishment. Relief washed over him as he discerned Nat’s red hair in the darkness.

 

“What the hell are doing here?” Steve groggily whispered.

 

She smiled. “Nothing. Just wanted to check up on you and make sure you weren’t panicking.”

 

“Well, I’m not,” he replied, rubbing his eyes. His nightstand alarm clock showed it was merely one in the morning. “How’d you get in the boy’s dorm anyway? If you wake someone up and they find you here, you’ll be in serious trouble.”

 

Natasha’s eyes twinkled in the darkness. “That’s not gonna happen.” She shuffled closer to Steve’s bed and kneeled on the floor. “What do you think tomorrow’ll be like?”

 

If Steve didn’t know any better, he’d say his friend was seeking comfort. “It’ll be… challenging, I guess.” He propped his head on his elbow to better look at her face.

 

“Wow, you’ve got such insight, Rogers.”

 

“You just woke me up, give me a break.”

 

She gave him a playful smile. “What about… the mythical beasts?”

 

“What about them?”

 

“What kind would you like to tame?”

 

“I’m not planning on taming anything, Nat. You know that.”

 

“Sure you are,” she flicked a finger at his arm. “Which type?”

 

Steve rolled his eyes, his eyelids starting to grow heavy again. “Don’t rub it in, Nat. If I ever manage to tame anything, it certainly won’t be on my first Reaping. On the other hand, I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up with some powerful critter like a griffin... or a sphynx.”

 

Natasha stayed silent for a moment and just stared at her sleepy friend as though she could read his thoughts.

 

“...what?” Steve asked, slightly uncomfortable.

 

“You’d make a fine tamer, Steve. You’re underestimating yourself.”

 

He shrugged awkwardly from his position on the bed, not convinced but too tired to argue. “I’d be more worried about being ripped to shreds by one than catching anything if I were you.”

 

“It’ll be fine, Steve. We’ll have each other’s back. And... I’ve got a plan, so don’t worry,” she promised as she stood up. “Goodnight, Steve,” she whispered, walking away.

 

“Goodnight, Nat,” he called back sleepily, his head already sinking back into his pillow.

 

\-------------------------------

 

The hurried breakfast was a challenge for the young man to keep in his stomach. After throwing on his uniform and taking a burning shower (probably the last time he’d wash for some time), Steve made his way to the meeting point. The group of fifty or so would-be soldiers were standing around right in the middle of the running grounds, nervously sticking close to their friends. 

 

Some people were trying to make last-minute alliances, such as the two cadets subtly hanging around Pietro, one of the top-tiers. However, the silver-haired boy was blatantly ignoring his two admirers and stuck to what he knew best: keeping to himself.

 

As soon as Natasha spotted Steve, she stepped out of her circle of friends and lightly jogged towards him.

 

“Ready?” She grinned.

 

“No,” Steve replied, but he smiled brightly at her nonetheless. 

 

A very loud humming coming from above startled the entire group. Descending from the sky, a large blimp was maneuvering itself towards them, making everyone scatter to leave room for its landing. The large balloon displayed five broad letters spelling “STARK” in red. Steve’s surprise seem to make his anxiousness bubble up, a cold sweat sweeping over his entire body.

 

When the airship was safely grounded, the hatch from the gondola propped itself open to let out agent Carter and her chimera. They didn’t need to be told twice: the recruits quickly staggered into proper row formation. Steve’s feet seemed to be frozen where he stood, the reality of the situation washing over him like an icy wave. Was he even going to be alive in four days? Natasha seemed to catch onto his sudden lack of movement and stealthly pulled his arm to set him properly next to her.

 

“Good morning, recruits,” agent Carter greeted from the front as her chimera paced the rows of soldiers. “You’re about to embark on a rather dangerous drill. The training you’ve sustained since you’ve set foot on Shield’s training grounds should be enough for you to pass it. As you all know, this is a filtering session for us to see who to keep amongst our ranks and who to dismiss. I hope that by now it is  _ also  _ understood that dismissal isn’t the only threat you should be fearing during the following four days. There  _ has  _ been severe injuries and even deaths occurring during first Reaping missions. Should you choose to step out, now is your last chance.” A long, painful silence ensued where meaningful side glances were exchanged. 

 

Steve felt lightheaded, but stayed in position. He could do this. Dr. Erskine had given him a chance and he would give his all.

 

“Excellent,” agent Carter spoke when no one manifested themselves. “Please embark in an orderly fashion.”

 

Row by row, the recruits stepped in the gondola and seated themselves. Steve ended up between Natasha and the sidewall, a choice seat with a small porthole. 

 

In no time, the engine thrummed onceover and they were lifting off. The recruits were unusually quiet, the tension palpable. Steve found small comfort in the fact that they were far too preoccupied with what they were heading into to focus on yesterday’s blunder on his part. That was fine by him. He was also grateful for Natasha sticking by his side even though he knew she’d made strong alliances with other top-tiers. Not that he understood her decision, but he  _ was  _ appreciative.

 

Iddly picking at his sleeve, Steve watched the chimera’s goat head subtly nudge at agent Carter’s hand. The creature was at ease, laying next to its tamer’s feet where she was seated at the front section. When the woman felt the prodding, she gave it a soft smile and petted it behind the ears. It closed its eyes in a satisfied manner.  It was strange to see such a potentially dangerous creature act like a regular golden retriever. It made Steve wonder if all tamed creatures could be brought to this level of domestication. 

 

After two hours of eventless flight, agent Carter stood. “We will soon be arriving on the island. Under your seat, you will find a Shield issued tactical bag containing all that you are allowed to bring with you.” 

 

Like the others, Steve reached under the bench to produce a sturdy single-shoulder backpack.

 

“Inside, you will find an empty water bottle, a knife, a single emergency flare and a flask of taming soot. Using the emergency flare will automatically disqualify you from the Shield program, so think twice about calling for help. The knife comes with a holster you can strap to your belt, which we strongly advise you use in case you need a weapon rapidly.”

 

A strong yank jerked the cabin, Steve’s already high heart rate picking up.

 

“...So weapons at the ready, is what I was saying,” agent Carter finished. “We’ve begun to descend towards the landing grounds, only a few more minutes and we’ll touch down.”

 

Soft chatter among the recruits started spreading around, people discussing how they were going to use their meager supplies. Natasha and Steve immediately started fastening their knife holster on their belt. 

 

“So have you thought about what kind of creature you’ll be taming, Steve?” Natasha asked innocently.

 

Steve grumbled and ignored the question. The taming soot in his pack was probably the most useless thing for him to have on this entire ordeal. He decided to focus on the view outside the porthole, the thick clouds clearing and the island slowly emerging in sight. From what was visible, it was quite large and botany filled most of the space. At its center, slopes evolved into a full-fledge mountain where steep cliffs promised tough hiking. All in all, the sight was breathtaking. Perhaps he’d survive this. If not with his physical capabilities, his wits would make him succeed somehow.

 

Fifteen minutes and a raucous descent later, all of the blimp’s passengers were standing on the pebble beach, awaiting for the mission to start. The forest loomed further up the slope, tall trees and fat leaves showcasing how wild a place this was. Steve clenched his fist, mentally going over his training as a way to calm his nerves. Groups were forming, and the young man idly noticed that Pietro still acted unimpressed and stood by himself. How peculiar. 

 

“The pick up location will be on this very beach in 96 hours,” agent Carter belowed. “If you fail to be here on time, you will not be retained by Shield, therefore I suggest you find a way to know at all times your position on the island.”

 

Steve stopped listening to the other instructions, the chimera catching his attention. The beast was crouching at the woman’s feet, alert, both heads’ set of eyes scanning the forest’s border. Its body language was very much tense and ready to pounce. Steve in turn examined the border, but couldn’t detect anything apart from the sense of dread that was slowly setting up camp for good in his stomach.

 

“...and so best of luck to all.”

 

The recruits didn’t stick around to watch the blimp disappear into the sky, everyone being hit with adrenalyn now that no authority figure was there to frame the mission.

 

“Steve, come with me,” Natasha asked.

 

“Where...  Nat, we should be heading towards the forest to find water, I don’t think staying on the beach is really a good--”

 

“This is Clint,” she stated as she placed a hand on another man’s shoulder. “I would’ve introduced you two earlier, but we’ve only confirmed we’d be partnering up yesterday.”

 

“Hey,” Clint greeted simply, looking Steve over before extending his hand. 

 

Steve had never really spoken to Clint before (he hadn’t really had a conversation with anyone aside from Nat since he set foot on the training grounds), but he knew the guy was a fine marksman. If he wasn’t in the top-tiers, he was well on his way to become one. 

 

“Hey, I’m Steve,” he hoped for a good first impression on his part as he shook Clint’s hand.

 

“Nat told me you were good at finding edibles and stuff like orientation. Told me you knew all about astrology, for that matter.” 

 

“Huh, yes, I… I’m not bad,” Steve cautiously replied, throwing a glance towards Natasha. He was somewhat glad that Clint didn’t mention how scrawny-looking he seemed. On his part, the sharp eyed soldier seemed very athletic and capable.

 

“Shall we get going, boys?” Natasha asked with a smile.

 

As they made their way towards the trees, Clint took the lead and Steve and Natasha walked side-by-side.

 

“He’s a good guy, Steve. You’ll get along, I’m sure.”

 

Steve nodded. “Yeah, he seems nice. I just wish you would’ve told me earlier we were going to have someone else with us.”

 

“Wanted me all to yourself, Rogers?”

 

Steve blushed and lightly shoved her shoulder. “No, but it wouldn’t have hurt to get acquainted beforehand.”

 

“I know. But I just approached him yesterday evening during supper… he was going to spend the four days on his own. He seemed content with joining a group of two, though. He’s good at shooting, we really want him on our team, trust me.”

 

“Ok,” Steve replied, watching the back of Clint’s head.

 

\-------------------------------

 

The group of three spent the following hours trekking up through the tropical forest in search of water. The water from the beach was salty, therefore it was a no-go. Steve was thankful for the humid air because it helped him keep his asthma in check, even though the sweltering heat was getting to him. 

 

To distract himself from the arduous trek, he tried to identify the plants and shrubs that surrounded them. They’d settle on speaking to a minimum while they were walking so as to avoid attracting unwanted attention from predatory creatures. No measure was too little to avoid being hunted on the very first day.

 

It was past midday when they finally found a thin stream to fill their water bottles with. Steve happily uncovered wild blueberries growing at its side and gathered all he could find. He distractedly noticed Clint snapping a long straight branch and examining it. 

 

“We could set camp close to here,” Steve suggested. “We’ll probably find more food since there’s water around.”

 

“I say we follow the stream down… I’m not fond of setting up camp in the middle of the forest, it’ll get too dark at night and we won’t be effective when keeping watch,” Clint replied.

 

They agreed it would be best to reach the edge of the forest so the foliage would be lighter for them to set up camp. Throughout the afternoon, they followed the stream downhill, being careful not to trip over the thick roots twisting out of the ground and avoiding making too much noise. Despite the sunny day, Steve had an ominous feeling looming around his head. He rationalized that it was probably his survival instincts surfacing, not something spying on them from the trees. What was probably troubling him the most was the distinct lack of sound from other living creatures… a bit like the forest was holding its breath before something occurred.

 

“So Steve,” Clint started, probably sensing his uneasiness. “What kind of creature would you like to have?”

 

Steve pinched his lips and narrowed his eyes at Natasha, while she chuckled.

 

“I don’t know,” Steve replied, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “What about about you?”

 

“A phoenix,” Clint replied immediately.

 

Phoenixes were beautiful fire birds, often outliving whoever tamed them. In the military, phoenix owners often ended up in espionage because they were so useful at discretely scouting ahead for their master.

 

“Clint here likes birds a lot,” Natasha added.

 

“They’re cool beings, is all I’m saying,” Clint replied.

 

The stream became more plentiful as they walked, a good sign for them. Steve was mostly focused on keeping up with his teammates, while Natasha scanned their surroundings. Clint was leading the way and handling his knife to sharpen the edge of the branch  he’d selected previously.

 

By the end of the afternoon, they were all starting to feel the strain of their missing lunch. They shared the few blueberries Steve had found, still treading on their makeshift path. They would soon reach the west border of the island according to Steve. 

 

“Aha!” Clint exclaimed before dashing forward. 

 

Natasha and Steve momentarily lost sight of him, stopping in their tracks. The young man briefly considered that Clint had had enough of their partnership and had just took off, but Clint reappeared quickly.

 

“Follow me, but be  _ very _ quiet,” Clint whispered, his eyes serious.

 

They did as they were told, promptly arriving at the edge of a cliff where the vegetation was sparse. The stream cascaded down the rock face to empty itself in a larger pond. Something strange caught Steve’s eyes as he stared at the water below, some sort of movement ruffling amidst the bulrush.

 

“What…”

 

“It’s a water nymph,” Natasha whispered excitedly.

 

Clint nodded. 

 

The creature blended well with its environment, its pale skin seemingly disappearing when it delved deeper in the water. She looked like a regular child with unnaturally long hair. Nymphs were human-like mythical creatures, but were shy by design and did not speak any human tongue.

 

“She’ll flee the moment we climb down this cliff,” Clint explained. “Water nymphs… they don’t like the company of others. I’m surprised she hasn’t spotted us yet.”

 

The nymph posed absolutely no threat to them as they were one of the most pacific creatures to exist. After watching her for a few minutes, the trio gingerly made their way down the slope, and as expected, saw no trace of the nymph when they reached the pond. 

 

“I can hear the waves of the beach from here,” Clint informed. “It should be right over that patch of trees. What do you say you two find a spot to set up camp and make a fire while I try to find something to eat?”

 

“Sure thing,” Natasha replied.

 

Clint’s good hearing turned out to be on point because a few steps through the grove, the beach greeted them once more.

 

Natasha and Steve chose a large tree with low hanging branches as their shelter, the idea being that anything heading their way from the beach would be easy to spot, but it still offered the protection of the forest’s foliage in case they needed to hide.

 

A small burst of pride erupted in Steve’s chest when a spark flared against the pile of dry wood he had collected. He scraped the two pieces of stone together once more, and this time, the flame took hold for good. A few blows towards the embers and a small fire crackled up. 

 

“Thanks, Steve,” the redhead called from her perch in the tree. 

 

“No problem,” Steve replied. “Do you think Clint will--”

 

“Will what?” Clint asked, beaming brightly at them. He raised the sharp stick he’d been carrying around, showing off the two trouts impaled on the shaft.

 

“Wow,” Steve deadpanned.

 

“Hope you like fish!” Clint grinned.

 

Steve felt like this was the tastiest meal he had ever eaten in his life. After roasting the trouts over the flame, they split the meaty parts between them, trying not to devour everything in a single bite. Their exhaustion resurfaced as soon as they were finished, the sun already set by then. The camp fire illuminated their tired features and already begrimed uniforms. 

 

“If the following three days go by as smoothly as today went, this mission will have been a joke,” Clint stated.

 

“Please don’t jinx it,” Natasha laughed.

 

They chatted amiably as the night got darker and the soothing chirping of crickets fanned out around them. Until a high pitch whistling coming from deep within the forest echoed.

 

All three recruits stopped their chatter immediately and raised their heads to see a blazing firework-like explosion a few miles from where they stood. An emergency flare.

 

The silence thickened for a few seconds before Clint cleared his throat. “They probably got lost and panicked… it gets too dark to see anything if you stay in the thick of the forest by night.”

 

“I hope they’re fine, though,” Steve thought aloud.

 

“It’s too far out for us to go check up on them anyway,” Natasha concluded. “We could head towards the flare in the morning when we have enough light to see where we’re heading… nothing we can do until then.”

 

The two man nodded in a dejected manner, the explosion having dragged them all back to reality. This was, despite its beauty, a dangerous place. This was a test. They had somehow managed to forget about that.

 

“So who’s taking first watch?” Clint asked.

 

“I’ll do it,” Steve volunteered.

 

Natasha frowned. “Steve, you look tired as hell. I can--”

 

“I said I’ll do it, Nat,” Steve replied a little more forcefully than he intended. “I’ll also make sure to keep the fire burning. You two catch some sleep and I’ll wake one of you in a few hours.”

 

The redhead raised her hands, abandoning the argument. “Ok, Rogers.”

 

Clint and Nat settled against the trunk, using their backpacks as pillow, while Steve turned his gaze to the beach. He soon heard his teammates’ respiration settle at a slower pace, Clint snoring softly. He yawned. He did his best not to let the sound of the waves crashing against the shore drift him off in slumber as well, instead focusing on the weight of his knife holster against his leg.

 

An hour in, he fed the fire a few extra branches, embers scattering. The pull of sleep was tugging at his eyelids, so much that he eventually stood up to make sure he wouldn’t be joining the two sleeping recruits. 

 

And this is precisely when he heard it.

 

A twig snapped close to their camp. Steve wasn’t sure if his heart stopped or if its rate skyrocketed. He peered into the darkness, scanning for any leaves rustling, his right hand on his knife’s handle. After several minutes, nothing was happening and he chucked it down to his tired mind playing tricks on him. Or perhaps the fire had crackled louder than expected? He warily turned his gaze back towards the beach when something akin to a chuckle was heard from the same spot within the forest.

 

Steve tried to reassure himself by remembering that predatory creatures rarely ever left the heart of the forest because hunting in pitch black darkness made for easy preys. They were near open space, and the only exotic thing the flame was attracting was fireflies. If anything, it would deter creatures from getting to close. Normally.

 

He held his breath, scanning through the darkness of the grove behind them. The only constant buzz came from the nocturnal insects and the waves crashing against the shore. Nothing else.

 

In that moment, he thought about the water nymph. He knew for a fact that nymphs avoided the company of humans, but that did not prevent  them from being curious. The nymph was probably spying on their camp, trying to understand who exactly trespassed close to her pond. Moreover, he highly doubted that Clint had  _ asked permission _ before fishing out the two trouts. 

 

The theory took hold in his mind; nymphs, however timid, were grudgingly territorial. Maybe she even wanted the fish back. 

 

He decided not to uselessly wake Natasha and Clint, and stealthly made his way into the grove of trees to face his stalker. He walked further, making sure that the gleam from the campfire could always be seen. His footsteps were light and he kept low so as not to alert whatever was hiding in the ferns.

 

Shumacs trembled to his right, and so he darted subtly towards the movement, crouching slightly. As he crept forward, he realized that the camp was getting too far for comfort, and he briefly considered walking back to alert his friends. 

 

Before the idea solidified in his mind, a loud growl resounded a few feet behind his back and the shock drove him forward. In an attempt to look at the source of the sound, his worn-out ankles twisted in a root and he started falling.

 

Had the fall just been him tripping over his feet, it wouldn’t have been a catastrophe. The ground, however, didn’t come for quite some time. He slipped off a cliff he didn’t know was there, hitting his side bluntly, before rolling down the ravine. His head was spinning when his fall ended violently. His eyes brutally out of focus, he feared his left ankle was broken and that wasn’t to mention the burning cut that throbbed over his brow bone. He managed to sit up, his breathing coming in ragged waves. 

 

“Shit…” he mumbled, palming his forehead. His fingers came back wet. Blood. 

 

He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to gain his composure back and figuring out where he had fallen. How  _ far  _ he had fallen. He’d have to climb out of this hole to alert his friends. That was his only option right now. The silver lining was that his pack was still over his shoulder.

 

Around him, damp dead leaves and a few dying shrubs was all he could see. Probably because by day, the sunlight had a lot of trouble reaching down here.

 

As he staggered in a standing position, the growling came back. This time, he couldn’t blame his haggard imagination.

 

In front of him, between branches, two small disks flashed before blinking away.

 

Steve’s nape bristled, ice running through his veins. He was being hunted, and it was way too dark to see what it was. He reached for his knife, but his hand landed on his thigh. Panicked, Steve realized the holster must have unhooked itself from his belt while he was falling.  _ Great _ .

 

He didn’t have time to think, for the thing hunting him stepped close enough for him to identify notable features. It took Steve a moment to realize he wasn’t staring at a man, the ram horns ornamenting his head and the dark wings indicating otherwise. The...  _ thing _ … had a strange silver left arm and its piercing eyes menacingly focused on Steve. He’d never felt so much like a prey in his entire life.

 

Before he could cry out, the creature tackled him to the ground, his grip against the smaller man’s chest. The force of the impact had Steve’s breath cutting off, his pack flying off of his back. The creature forcefully pinned him down, teeth bared. Black spots were slowly clustering the cadet’s vision, the ruthlessly sharp silver arm trapping his windpipes. 

 

With his mouth painfully wide opened, no sound or air passed. His useless flailing didn’t even seem to register with the thing holding him down. Almost blind, his right hand landed on his pack’s kevlar, and he subconsciously tried to reach inside for something.  _ Anything _ . He couldn’t… wouldn’t die here.

 

Even though his chances at surviving were dwindling, he peered through glazed eyes at his assailant. His meager attempt at bravery seemed to startle the creature slightly, his brow frowning and the grip on his neck somewhat relenting. Their eyes locked.

 

In that moment, Steve’s fingers wrapped around a glass vial that was in the top pockets of his pack.

 

_ The taming soot. _

 

There was no time to think. Using his last ounce of energy, he quickly smashed the flask on the ground, his hand getting smeared with the ashy substance inside. He was really doing this.

 

The winged creature above him must have thought very little of him because the movement didn’t even stir a single look towards Steve’s hand. Good. 

 

The feeling in his limbs was getting so dull from the lack of oxygen that Steve wasn’t sure his palm even reached the creature’s neck. He only grasped his success when he creature violently backed off his chest, letting go of his bruised neck like he got burned.

 

A bout of thick coughs caught Steve’s frame, his entire body heaving with the oxygen slamming into his lungs once more. It was both the best and the worst feeling in the world. His head was throbbing, his eyes swelling up with burning tears. The dark spots cleared as he watched the creature holding both hands to its own neck where Steve had smacked the soot. Wide eyed and frantic, it gave a raucous growl, as if in denial of what was happening to it. The dark wings at its back kept spreading at awkward angles.

 

Steve scrambled backwards, in a desperate attempt to put as much distance between him and the predator. He used his right leg to push his body along the ground, his left ankle alarmingly not responding. He gave another heavy cough, his insides ignited. 

 

It was wishful thinking  to pretend he could crawl back to safety. A few seconds in, the being was stalking back towards him with an even more murderous gleam. Adrenalyn shot up his spine, and not even knowing how he managed it on a single leg, he stood back up. The excessively foolish action earned him a second tackle to the ground, this time his head hit a hard surface (probably a rock) so violently, his vision blacked out instantly.

 

As his mind drifted off, he dimly smelled singed flesh, but the thought didn’t register as anything meaningful to him.


	2. The Cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve finds himself in a cave when he wakes up... with a series of surprises awaiting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All riiight! This week showed how rusty I am at writing. Writing is hard. Fingers are tired of typing every night. 
> 
> Hope you like the following chapter!

The sound of a slow, constant drip was the first thing Steve’s muddled mind discerned. 

 

_ Drip. _

 

_ Drip. _

 

_ Drip. _

 

His eyelids were very heavy, and he knew something dreadful had happened, but he couldn’t quite grasp what exactly.

 

_ Drip. _

 

_ Drip. _

 

On his forehead, a dull pressure. The rest of his body was mostly numb. He’d woken up in this fashion many times in the hospital, nothing unfamiliar there… but what exactly was that dripping sound?

 

_ Drip. _

 

The thing on which he was lying was too soft to be a hospital bed… and the air was very humid around him. As his senses started to conglomerate information, the pain he dreaded resurfaced as well. His memory was next.

 

_ The Reaping. _

 

_ The beach. _

 

_ The ravine. _

 

_ The attack. _

 

Steve’s breathing picked up, deftly trying to push back the drowsy feeling. His eyes fluttered opened, but his surroundings were so dark… and his muscles ached something horrible. 

 

His mind puzzled together his last memories, his injuries starting to burn again. His left ankle was throbbing dully as an important ache pulsed on his brow. He recalled blood obscuring his vision. The rest of his body felt battered equally, but definitely less than these parts. The top half of his uniform was missing (including his dogtags), his bare chest feeling a thin draft. The legs of his too-big cargo pants draped over his bare feet. 

 

He tried to sit up using his arms as leverage, but he must have miscalculated how awake he was because his limbs responded strangely. It took a few seconds for him to realize both of his hands were tied (thankfully in front of him). 

 

So someone… or  _ something _ … had dragged him away from the ravine. Could the creature have done so? Steve was so convinced the beast was there to off him on the spot… perhaps creatures such as these liked to keep their meals alive and on-hand.

 

Steve tried to roll on his side to get a feel of his environment, but the pain shocked through his body, starting from his ankle.  _ Bad idea. _ So there he lay, on his back, waiting for something probably horrible to kill him. His movement range was limited, and as of now it wasn’t an option to try to stand.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing shallow.  _ Not now. _ He tried to inhale through his nose and let it out through his mouth, but if he was being honest with himself, he knew this was coming the minute he had regained consciousness. His heart stuttered in his chest, its uneven beat echoing in his ears. He couldn’t hear the dripping sound anymore. His muscles tensed as the panic attack dragged him in his personal hell of fear and asthma. He hadn’t had one of those since he’d joined the military, so he figured that at least, right now, he had a good reason to be subjected to one.

 

Being helpless on his back was the worst, the vulnerability of his exposed front ringing alarms in his mind. The air burned his throat as he struggled against the lack of oxygen. Maybe going out this way was better than what awaited him later.

 

As his mind fuzzed over once more, he felt a strong hand at his back push him upwards. Steve was too out of it to ask any questions and just folded himself accordingly. The hand pushed his lower back slightly as another braced his ribcage at his front, oddly like his mother used to do. The hands were warm. Whoever was there was holding him in a straight sitting position, and the palm on his chest started motioning up and down in a soothing manner. Steve willed his breathing to follow the up-and-down movement. It helped.

 

After a few jittery moments, Steve dared look at his visitor. His eyes had adjusted to the dimness, but he suddenly wished they hadn’t. 

 

The creature that had attacked him previously was there by his side, holding him upright. Steve froze at the realization. The creature rolled his eyes and tsked before resuming the movement for Steve to breathe properly.

 

“I don’t… Are you…” Steve tried to formulate a full question through shallow breaths, but realized that he didn’t even know what he wanted to ask or even if the creature could speak.

 

Piercing grey eyes stared him down. Up close, Steve could discern his messy hair framed by the curved ram-like horns and the start of stubble along his jaw. Had he been human, he would have been very much handsome. Had he not tried to choke the life out of Steve, the young man would’ve been okay with the whole situation.

 

As the panic attack ebbed away, Steve’s eyes were getting well adjusted to the darkness. He took into account the cave he was in, a few strips of light rays a few feet away being the only light source. A small rivulet of water snaking alongside a stalactite proved to be the culprit for the dripping sounds. Below, a small pool of clear water that wasn’t much bigger than a tub. Underneath him, the soft makeshift bed was in fact a pile of furs. The space was rather small, high enough for a grown man to stand but not higher. A few crates were piled on the opposite wall of where the stack of furs were laid out. He couldn’t tell how deep the cave was for the path that served as an exit to the alcove seemed to lead to a longer rocky corridor. 

 

His breathing grudgingly returned to normal after a few more minutes of warily staring at each other.

 

“If... If you’re going to kill me, I’d rather you do it quickly,” Steve stated with a sick feeling in his stomach.

 

The other just frowned slightly. Steve guessed that the creature didn’t speak his language… not surprising if he’d spent his entire life on this island. Steve tried to channel his fear into deciphering what kind of creature he was facing… he really couldn’t tell.

 

The horned man stood and reached for a small wooden container by the pile of furs. He came back to Steve and sat far too close for comfort. The dark wings brushed against Steve’s pale skin.

 

“What are you doing?” Steve asked tentatively.

 

He was met with a quizzical look and the other reached down for… his belt buckle? Steve shove away from the hand.

 

“Hey, no!” Steve exclaimed.

 

The beast huffed, clearly annoyed. His second attempt was more successful as he managed to immobilize Steve’s right hip with his metal arm.

 

“I said NO!” Steve kicked with his responding foot, missing his assailant as the pain made him flinch.

 

Another displeased expression was thrown his way.

 

“Don’t. Please don’t,” Steve asked.

 

The creature relented, letting go of his hip. Instead, he stretched lower to grasp Steve’s left pant leg with both hands. Never leaving Steve’s eyes, he pulled sharply at the material and ripped the fabric right off the calf. 

 

Steve could now see the purple bruises on the skin and the weird angle at which his ankle rested. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he had a fracture or four. 

 

The horned man opened up his box and produced a few supplies which he spread on the furs. The first thing he grabbed was a small metallic jar and he twisted it open. After delving two non-metallic fingers inside it, he started layering the thick salve against the ankle. It felt a bit like argyle. 

 

The state of his leg was bothering him quite a lot, but he sort of preferred that over being assaulted. The beast seemed to have good intentions… for now. He wondered if it was really the same thing that had beaten him down in the woods, but there was no mistaking these cold eyes.

 

A few minutes later, his entire injury was covered in the opaque substance. The creature confidently pulled Steve’s foot closer to him, holding the ankle firmly with both hands. Heat spread instantly in Steve’s entire leg as a warm orange glow radiated from the creature’s palms. Steve froze, mesmerized at the sight, but not quite understanding what he was witnessing. The creature’s hands were glowing hot, not unlike overheated iron. His first reflex had been to panic, thinking the warmth would escalate greatly, but it turned out to be precisely controlled. It seemed to penetrate through skin and bones in a healing way.

 

It all ended rapidly, the heat having solidified the salve. It was now charcoal-colored and cracked.

 

Then it hit Steve with full force.

 

The velvety wings.

 

The horns.

 

The control over heat.

 

“ _ You’re a dragon. _ ”

 

The creature standing before him was a dragon. He had been attacked by a  _ dragon  _ and now that very same  _ dragon  _ was trying to… heal him? It didn’t make a lick of sense.

 

The dragon looked up and gave him a pinched smirk. 

 

So he understood after all.

 

“Why are you doing this?” Steve asked. “I thought you wanted me dead.”

 

Something stirred in the dragon’s gaze, but he ignored the question otherwise. Instead, he started peeling off the remaining hardened salve chunks off the skin. He then proceeded to wrap the ankle and foot in a linen. 

 

On his end, the curious treatment Steve had received had proven itself fruitful. Although he still couldn’t move his ankle, the pain had subsided considerably. The salve must’ve been made from desensitizing herbs that could be activated with heat. How fitting for a dragon to make use of it.

 

“Could you… untie me?” Steve asked tentatively, raising his bound wrists. The thick rope holding his hands together was tight and was beginning to leave chafe marks where his bones protruded.

 

The dragon’s eyes darkened and he simply pushed the smaller man’s hands away.

 

“I won’t run. I can’t even stand.”

 

The beast didn’t acknowledge any of it, but his annoyance seemed to spike once more. Stubbornly, Steve tried again.

 

“I’m obviously no threat to you, I’m unharmed.”

 

Another “tsk” came from the dragon.

 

The creature rose to his feet, walking a few feet away. From inside a fissure in the wall, he picked up Steve’s water bottle and brought it back towards the cadet. He carefully pressed the rim against Steve’s lips, tilting it slowly. It made Steve realize just how thirsty he was and so he swallowed a mouthful.

 

It left a very strange aftertaste in his mouth, and he soon realized something had been mixed in his water. The dragon had proven to be quite smart about this, taking Steve’s defense away by using Steve’s own familiarity with the water bottle. As he feared, his vision began to swim as the dragon guided him back down on the furs.

 

“You… you put someth… ing…” he couldn’t quite remember how the blame was supposed to end as a dreamless sleep washed over him.

 

\-------------------------------

 

When Steve surfaced back to consciousness, this time it took less time for his mind to puzzle everything back together. The good news was that whatever had been mixed in his water didn’t leave any weird side effect. The unfortunate thing was that he had lost all notion of time, for he didn’t know how much he had slept in total.

 

His hands were still held together by the rope, and moreover, the dragon had tied another rope to it that reached the wall as a leash would do. The slack would let him shuffle around on the makeshift bed, but not further. Steve grumbled. 

 

“You asshole...”

 

The blond still thankfully had his trousers on (minus the ripped leg), and he realized that more bandages had been wrapped around his bruises. His head was wrapped in a linen and several other cuts and minor injuries on his upper body were secured under patches of cloth. The only real ache that hadn’t been dialed down to a manageable level was his neck. A vivid flash of metallic fingers sinking into his windpipes blossomed in his mind, making him shiver.

 

The dragon was absent for the time being, and Steve really hoped this entire ordeal would end somewhat in his favor. Was there a way for him to negotiate with a dragon? He didn’t have any bargaining chips on his end, and he was pretty sure he’d settled his fate when he used the taming soot as a defense mechanism.

 

No wonder the soot had only surprised the beast, it was a  _ dragon _ . Steve had heard plenty about these rare beings, but he wasn’t even sure if any had ever been tamed at all. Dragons were amongst the most powerful ones that existed and led solitary lives, avoiding humans and other mythical creatures alike. 

 

At the very least, this one seemed to be intent on treating Steve’s wounds.

 

He also started thinking about Natasha and Clint, mentally kicking himself for being proud and not waking them up when he should have. Were they even looking for him? Would he be found by anyone at all? 

 

Using his right knee, Steve scooted closer to the rock wall where his leash was tied. Even if his wrists were bound, he could still try to undo the knot. Only, there  _ wasn’t _ a knot. The rope looped through a metal ring that was encrusted into the stone. Sure, there must have been a knot at some point, but the dragon had singed it so that the rope had fused with itself, leaving no end to work with.

 

“Cunning bastard.”

 

Nothing remotely sharp had been left within his reach, unsurprisingly.

 

His stomach grumbled loudly. If he didn’t find something to eat soon, he’d feel faint again. The blood loss didn’t help either.

 

Soft footsteps echoed down the corridor and soon enough, the dragon appeared in the alcove, holding a burlap bag. This time, Steve rose in a sitting position and took the time to analyse his captor. The dragon was clad in rough dark garments, two openings at his back for the very large wings to protrude. The wings seemed to belong to a giant bat, but folded neatly behind him. Without any sleeves, his right arm showcased impressive muscles, while his metal left limb mirrored the shape. Steve had so many questions about that arm.

 

The dragon unceremoniously dumped the bag next to his prisoner, making the smaller man jump. He proceeded to pulling it open, a good deal of different mushrooms and herbs scattering, followed by a bowl and a few other tools. Steve could identify some of the mushrooms, thankful that none of them were poisonous. The dragon also took out a cluster of banana-like fruits, peeling one of them open and handing its insides to Steve.

 

The cadet took it in his bound hands. He’d watched the dragon dismantle the fruit, it was most probably safe to eat. 

 

“You’re still not going to untie me, are you?”

 

The dragon sighed, sounding exasperated and gave him a pointed look.

 

“Fine,” Steve yielded.

 

He ate in silence, while the dragon ruffled through the various ingredients around him. He carried on by squashing a few different mushrooms and eucalyptus in the bowl, using a stone grinder. A paste, strangely resembling the special salve, took form.

 

Steve was done eating the fruit by the time the dragon dipped his flesh hand in the mixture and approached him. The blond soon realized he was heading for his neck, and letting that dragon near his jugular once had been, by far, enough.

 

He hastened backwards, flattening himself against the rocky wall. “I could do it myself,” he suggested carefully.

 

The dragon shook his head.

 

“You’re not… I mean... the last time you had a hand around my neck, it didn’t go too well for me,” Steve explained, alarmed. Perhaps being completely honest was going to help him somehow.

 

Surprisingly, the dragon seemed to consider this. All the same, he resumed getting closer, but at a slower pace, probably to channel his good intention.

 

Calloused fingers covered all the nasty markings on Steve’s neck as the cadet stiffened, holding his breath. No added pressure. Steve shut his eyes, desperately wanting for it to be over. The digits glided along the skin, spreading the paste evenly from his bony clavicles to his clenched jaw. All the while, Steve was pushing back images of a ruthless grip blocking out air.

 

He suddenly felt cooler fingers prod at the side of his face, the dragon silently asking him to open his eyes once more. Their gaze locked, and the familiar warmth started radiating from the dragon’s hand into his neck. Steve whined, fearing for a second panic attack.

 

The orange glow faded, and his fear halted as the dragon softly peeled off the charred paste. He couldn’t feel the bruises as much, and he also realized that the eucalyptus added in the mixture helped clear his throat.

 

“Good boy.”

 

Steve gaped at the dragon.

 

“...What?” the cadet blurted.

 

The dragon smirked, replying nothing more.

 

“You just spoke,” Steve stated. He couldn’t have imagined that. “You can speak, you can  _ understand _ me perfectly.”

 

The dragon quickly gathered the few remaining ingredients and stuffed them back in his bag, ignoring his captive. He rose and grabbed the discarded pile of unused linen, bringing them back to the furs.

 

“You… I have questions,” Steve supplied. “Why won’t you talk?”

 

The dragon unrolled one of the strips, not looking at Steve. “I don’t speak to your kind,” he expressed in a gravely voice. 

 

“Why the hell not?” 

 

The creature approached him again, this time with the piece of cloth. Steve avoided the bandage and glared at the creature, determined to get an answer. He wasn’t going to comply so much now that he knew that there was absolutely no language barrier between the two of them. 

 

“Why are you doing this? Why are you keeping me here?”

 

The wings twitched, probably from annoyance. “Are you thirsty?” the dragon asked.

 

“I’m not falling for this trick again,” Steve replied disdainfully. 

 

“Suit yourself. You’re much more manageable when you’re not talking.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes, getting pissed. “I deserve to know what you’re planning on doing with me.”

 

With a glower, the dragon brushed off the question again and reached Steve’s neck with the linen. Begrudgingly, the smaller man wasn’t quick enough to dodge in time. “You are so…” the dragon breathed, far too close for comfort. “...troublesome.”

 

Heat could still be felt through the hands working on looping the bandage around his now healing neck. Steve felt a twinge of something inside his chest, but chucked it down to being nettled.

 

Silence fell again, but the tension thickened as the dragon meticulously worked on covering every bruise.

 

“...I’m… my name is Steve,” the cadet uttered, not entirely certain as to why he was telling his captor that. In truth, it felt a bit like a defeat. He couldn’t really see a way out of this mess, and he was pretty sure that the dragon was just keeping him alive temporarily. It made no sense for him to still be breathing.

 

The dragon paused, but didn’t reply.

 

“This was my first Reaping mission,” Steve spoke again, more to himself. He chuckled. “Didn’t think it’d go this way.”

 

The bandage was now attached snugly around his neck as Steve stared at his useless palms. His water bottle appeared in his field of vision, being handed to him. He took it slowly.

 

Drinking it would be the easy way out of this nightmare. And maybe if he drank enough of the stuff, he wouldn’t wake up at all. He wouldn’t have to wait to be killed.

 

He crushed the idea quickly, hurling the water bottle as best as he could towards his captor. It faintly hit the dragon’s knee before falling to the ground with its cork unscrewed, the liquid pooling out. The creature ignored it.

 

“My friends are looking for me,” Steve tried to sound menacing.

 

A slow smirk drew itself on the dragon’s lips.

 

“They’re good hunters, they know how to track mythical creatures. They’ll find me.”

 

“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?” The dragon replied nonchalantly.

 

Steve bristled. “You don’t know what they’re capable of.”

 

With irritating confidence, the dragon kneeled down on the furs, his leg brushing Steve’s as he moved toward his smaller body. “Have they ever hunted a dragon down, doll?” He drawled as he slipped two fingers under Steve’s chin to keep him from looking down. “You just said this was your first Reaping mission… why wouldn’t it be their first time either?”

 

Steve jerked his head to the side, avoiding the unwanted touch. “They’re higher ranks than me,” Steve replied as smoothly as he could.

 

The dragon’s smirk turned in a full grin and Steve glimpsed at his white teeth, the canines sticking out to a greater extent than a human’s would. “You’re a horrible liar.”

 

“And I thought you didn’t speak to  _ my kind _ .”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

The winged man went to grab the discarded empty water bottle and took the few steps to the small pool of water. He rose the rim to the dripping stalactite, filling the container.

 

“Here,” he said, giving it back to Steve. “You saw me fill it, no aloe milk added.”

 

This time, the cadet accepted the clean water. He drank half of it in a single swing, realizing how dry his throat was. The dragon still had his eyes on him when he finished swallowing.

 

“You really shouldn’t give your name to creatures like me,” the dragon warned.

 

Steve frowned: he’d never heard of such a thing. “Why not?”

 

For what felt like the hundredth time, the dragon smiled mysteriously and turned his back to Steve.

 

\-------------------------------

 

The following hours were spent uneventfully. Steve laid back down on his back, mentally admitting that the furs were in fact very comfortable, and silently observed the ceiling and sometimes his captor. He was even allowed to have as much fruit as he liked, which he took advantage of. Using the thin strands of light filtering through the cave’s ceiling, he tried to tell the time of day, analysing the movement. He also evaluated how hungry he had been before having eaten the bananas, but he knew his stomach wasn’t reliable when he was sick or injured. By the time the strips of light were dwindling, indicating sunset, he figured that maybe a day or two had passed since the attack. Which was a big deal considering the Reaping was only four days long.

 

The dragon, on his end, rummaged around the alcove for most of the time, mixing up herbs in jars and sharpening other tools with a whetstone. He even spent a good while flipping through a dilapidated leather-bound book, but didn’t share its content with Steve at all. When it got too dark, he lit up a torch that he fixed against the rock wall. A cool night air draft began to circulate throughout the alcove, and Steve’s lack of shirt began to be felt. He shivered, but deemed it unwise to complain about being cold to a  _ dragon _ . He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he did.

 

At some point, the creature walked back to the furs and started laying down next to Steve. The blond scooted away. “What are you doing?” he asked, alarm in his voice.

 

“Preparing for sleep.”

 

“You’re not sleeping next to me.”

 

“My rules: you’re in my bed, doll.”

 

Steve tried to dampen his baffled expression. “Put me somewhere else,” he insisted, disliking the thought of having that particular being breathing down his neck while he was unconscious. 

 

“What, and leave you on the stone floor when you’re already shivering here?” The grin was back full force as he idly gathered some furs to make himself some sort of pillow. “You’re staying right where you are. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”

 

“You’re insufferable,” Steve grumbled. He turned to lay on his side so as to show his back to the creature and made himself as small as he could to keep as much distance between the two. The restraints on his wrists tugged against the leash, and he tried to ignore the burning sensation. 

 

“If you think you’re going to have trouble sleeping, I can give you aloe milk again,” the winged man suggested.

 

Steve scowled and briefly stared over his shoulder to send him a foul glare.

 

The dragon chuckled behind him, laying down completely and closing the conversation by remaining silent. 

 

Without anything to distract himself, Steve felt his mind wander back to Nat, and wondered if she’d be able to track him down. He thought about succeeding in getting enlisted in the army, about Erskine believing he could accomplish great things. He thought about how, for a few weeks, he had believed he would. 

 

The draught intensified as time went on, somehow facilitating Steve’s struggle against the pull of sleep. It wasn’t very surprising that he felt tired still: whenever he had sustained any form of injury in the past, his body would “shut down” to compensate for his lack of immune system. 

 

His body gave an involuntary shiver. It was  _ definitely  _ getting chillier now. Even the torch’s flame flickered more vigorously, sending shadows dancing on the stone walls.

 

A few seconds later, a black velvet wing skid over his shoulder and tentatively rested down to his collarbone. Steve ignored it, folding his knees on himself so he was in a foetal position. The wing was followed by the touch of a flesh hand pressing flat against his spine. Steve tensed.

 

“You’re cold,” the dragon whispered. 

 

Without prompting, the wing snaked down to the blond’s chest and dragged the smaller body flush against the very warm one, just like an arm would have. Steve was momentarily startled at the strength it could muster, then acknowledging that he did not weigh much. The stretched membrane settled over him, covering his entire body like a blanket. Steve felt his muscles relax gradually. Perhaps, this time, it was okay for him to let his guard down. The warmth engulfed him as he listened to the slow, steady heartbeat thumping in his back.

 

“You’re so much trouble,” the dragon spoke lowly, the words barely registering in Steve’s drowsy mind. Steve was already one step into slumber, having abandoned the fight for staying awake. “You’re all spitfire with your words, but you’re in fact quite vulnerable. All these bothersome questions. But even though I’d gotten it from your dogtags, you still gave me your name freely. Didn’t need to ask.” The cadet felt fingers press close to his nape’s bandages. “So here’s mine. You can call me  _ Bucky _ .”

 

\-------------------------------

 

Steve hadn’t slept that well in a  _ very  _ long time. Everything was warmth and softness around his body, as if he’d indulged in a few extra degrees of heating during a cold winter night. When he opened his eyes and gathered once more where he was, he realized that throughout the night he’d turned to face the dragon and was now nestled snugly against his clothed chest. The wing that served him as blanket was still enveloping him from his shoulders to his feet, keeping the cold air from the cave out.

 

The cadet dared not move a muscle. From what he could sense, the dragon was still asleep, his breathing steady. He dimly remembered the creature monologuing before sleep had swept him away, something about his name being a weird one like “Bucky”. Although... Steve wasn’t convinced he hadn’t hallucinated the ordeal. “Bucky” sounded like a childhood nickname kids would taunt someone with, not a title worthy of a dragon.

 

Dismissing the thought, he concentrated on what his field of vision allowed him to see. He inadvertently examined the dragon’s neck, or more precisely where the rough fabric of his garment ended and where some sort of bandage started. The pale cloth was barely visible, and if it weren’t for the stretch in the fabric overlapping it, Steve wouldn’t have noticed it at all. It seemed to cover a rather dark mark underneath.

 

And at that moment, Steve recalled the taming soot. The bandage was placed exactly where the blond had hit him with the powder. 

 

In truth, the soldiers entering the military program weren’t told much about the effects the taming soot had on the beast they targeted. They were taught how, in normal circumstances, a soldier was to immobilize the desired creature before using their fingers to paint a black circle of soot around its neck. It was almost poetic how the soot acted like a metaphorical collar. Logic dictated that by forcing the creature into submission  _ before  _ applying the powder made for more successful taming. Steve hadn’t obeyed any of those rules. Furthermore, he hadn’t known taming soot could actually injure.

 

As stealthily as he could, he raised his still bound hands to the bandage, brushing his fingers against the darker spot. His index glided over the fabric, wondering if he’d truly hurt his captor. He felt somewhat disconcerted that his concern was legitimate.

 

He barely noticed the dragon’s breathing had changed its pace before his fingers were clasped in a death grip and removed from the creature’s adam’s apple. The winged man was now staring daggers at him, a wild anger dancing in his cold eyes, his wings now both firmly folded at his back.

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve blurted automatically.

 

The grip on his fingers only relented after a moment. “And you keep asking why I won’t untie you.” The creature rose slowly, letting go of Steve’s hands completely.

 

“I’m… sorry,” the cadet repeated.

 

“Save it.”

 

Steve tried to think of something to add to dilute the already increasing tension between the two of them. If he was going to bargain for his life, he might as well try to be on the dragon’s good side. Something else, despite it all, took his attention away.

 

“I’m… err… Bucky…? I need to use the bathroom.”

 

It wasn’t an elegant request, but the pressure in his bladder was becoming insistent. It was also a safe bet that Bucky didn’t want his captive relieving himself on his very own bed.

 

The dragon mumbled under his breath, tugging at the leash’s end upon the wall. The rope snapped as if it was a mere string. “Fine.”

 

He moved purposefully towards Steve, looping his right arm around his back and his metal one under his knees. “Wha…”

 

“You can’t walk,” he stated.

 

“No… but…”

 

“D’you want me to carry you over my shoulder, love?” the dragon asked sarcastically.

 

Steve blushed and shook his head. The arms tugged him closer the the dragon’s chest and lifted. He could feel the strong muscles effortlessly carrying him and felt, once more, very small. Bucky carried him silently through the alcove’s exit, only to halt a few feet into the stone corridor. Steve immediately scanned his new surroundings, but all he could see was more rock walls with dangling moss and not much of anything else. 

 

“We’re deep within the mountain,” Bucky explained, as if reading his thoughts. “There isn’t much point for you to look for an exit.” He gently placed Steve down in a standing position, the smaller man resting his weight on his good foot and letting the bandaged one to hover above the ground. “You can do your business in that hole over there,” he pointed at a gap within the floor where a small rivulet of water cascaded through it. 

 

Steve hopped forward, bracing his hands against the cold stone. He looked back at his captor, but swallowed down the urge to ask the dragon to leave him while he peed. There was probably no point in doing so anyway. He did his business, struggling a bit with his bound wrists. “Okay,” he said aloud, once he was done.

 

The arms gathered him up once more, but didn’t drag him back to the alcove. Instead, he was headed in the opposite direction. 

 

“Where are you taking me?” Steve asked, unnerved, while a dozen of frightful scenarios unfolded in his mind. 

 

“Relax,” Bucky replied. “You need to get your injuries cleaned, so I’m taking you to the water source. I couldn’t really clean you properly when I treated you the first time, but now that you’re awake, it’ll be easier this way.”

 

As the pair trudged through multiple passageways, Steve realized that the alcove was but a fragment of the space the gallery occupied. Every turn led to more rocky tunnels, sometimes sloping upwards, sometimes taking them further down. Even with his impeccable orientation sense, Steve would get lost within minutes in this labyrinth.

 

“Bucky, how much time have I been here?”

 

The dragon peered down at him. “What do you mean?”

 

“I’ve been sleeping a lot since you… took me in… I just lost all notion of time.”

 

“Still hoping for your friends to find you, huh?” he chuckled.

 

“That’s not it,” Steve grumbled.

 

“Oh, but I think that’s  _ exactly _ it, doll. Your mission, it lasts what? Three, four days tops? They never send rookies on the island for more than five days, so if you’re M.I.A. for longer than that, they’ll probably leave you for dead.”

 

Steve shivered at his voiced fear. 

 

“They’ll think you wandered off into the night and got lost. Probably stumbled on something you shouldn’t have,” the creature continued, seemingly enjoying himself. “Or simply fell down a ravine and broke your neck,” he said lower, the back of two fingers brushing against Steve’s nape.

 

“No, please stop,” Steve quivered.

 

“What baffles me is that you sound like you actually  _ want  _ to go back to the military. Can’t imagine being there is that much fulfilling.”

 

“Better there than getting murdered underground,” Steve muttered.

 

The dragon clamped up at that and looked at Steve in an undecipherable way, stopping his trek altogether. 

 

“Three days,” Bucky uttered. 

 

Steve stared blankly at him.

 

“That’s how much time it’s been since I took you in here.”

 

“Three days,” Steve repeated, his stomach twisting.

 

“Took a while for you to come around, I wasn’t even sure you were going to wake up at first.”

 

Three days. It meant that… today was the Reaping’s last day. It meant that if he wasn’t found today, his chances of ever stepping off this island were near zero. 

 

It took a moment for Steve to look away from him and realize that they were in a new larger alcove, one that was spacious enough to hold a small inside-lake. The pool of water seemed turquoise in color, and the higher stone ceiling was punched through with large holes where sunlight could beam down. Nothing like the flimsy light rays of the other alcove. Healthy green vines also cascaded down those holes, indicating that the surface wasn’t very far above. 

 

Bucky mutely brought him closer to the edge of the water, setting him down on a protruding rock that would serve him as a bench. “I need to remove your bandages,” he explained. “I brought more linen to remake them afterwards.”

 

The voice seemed far off, the cadet’s focus now revolving around his new reality. What was going to happen to him?

 

The dragon deftly unwrapped all the cloth and patches covering the blond’s body, starting with his ankle and ending with the one on his brow. When Steve felt the skin above his eye, the swelling had dropped, but the bruise was still tender. 

 

“Remove your lower garments,” Bucky ordered.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Your pants, your underwear. Remove them.”

 

Steve just stared back.

 

“You won’t let me near your crotch, princess. But unless you bathe clothed, you need to get out of them.”

 

The cadet idly wondered if he was pig headed enough to get in the water still halfway-dressed, but deemed it too childish. He wasn’t a fan of undressing in front of Bucky, but tried to remember that the guy wasn’t human. Not exactly. 

 

Steve had always hated undressing in the presence of other people, especially in the military. He always compared his boney frame to the well toned bodies that surrounded him, crushing his thoughts about how the physical training they were going through made changes to his body.

 

Grudgingly, he undid his belt buckle, firmly avoiding Bucky’s eyes. He managed to shimmy out of his trousers and underwear, flinching slightly when the remaining of the pants’ left leg brushed against his injured ankle. He figured it would take a lot of time for it to heal properly. 

 

Without any prompting, Bucky was back at his side, ready to pick him off the ground again. 

 

“No, I can… hop,” Steve batted the arms away. He felt silly, completely naked in a cave and allowing a dragon to order him around. He wasn’t about to let himself be picked up again when the edge of the water was but a few feet away, it was embarrassing. 

 

“Yeah, I bet your balance is great on wet pebbles and with tied wrists,” the dragon sneered. Although he did not push the issue, he didn’t take Steve back in his arms. Instead, he offered his left hand as support as the smaller man jumped forward on his right leg. 

 

The cadet entered the water and found it lukewarm. He lowered himself down in a sitting position, shuffling forward until the liquid reached his neck. Bucky, on his part, stayed ashore right next to him, keeping a watchful eye. It wasn’t like Steve could run off anywhere meaningful: the alcove had but one entrance. After a few moments of Steve entering, the water completely stilled once more. It was oddly soothing, the grime and dried blood peeling off his body. 

 

“Did I hurt you?” Steve eventually asked.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Your neck, I mean. Did the soot hurt you?”

 

Their eyes met as Steve turned around, but the dragon kept his mouth shut.

 

“I mean, I’m not really sorry about what I did,” Steve rephrased. “I probably wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t… but I didn’t know it was going to wound you.” For some unknown reason, he felt that Bucky needed to know that.

 

Bucky shrugged his right shoulder, visibly trying to hide the bandage away under his garments.

 

Steve let the subject drop. He soaked some more in the water before eventually dipping his head in. The water hitting his forehead stung, but the feeling of caked dirt washing out of his blond locks felt way nicer. He eventually let Bucky haul him out, setting back onto the rock by the water. 

 

He struggled to put his trousers back on, stubbornly forbidding Bucky to help him. He was bright red when he finished fastening them, embarrassed beyond belief. The dragon began the tedious process of wrapping all of his now cleaned bruises under bandages. He was halfway done when the wind echoed a strange sound in the alcove.

 

Only, Steve realized that the wind wasn’t the thing making the sound.

  
Unless the wind had started calling his name from above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Steve, who could be calling your name? Do you really think this dragon is going to let you be found? Hmmmm...


	3. Under-Negotiated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bargaining with a dragon is a rough thing to go through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people. 
> 
> Trying to keep up with writing things in an orderly fashion! Believe it or not, I did set up a plan and laid out how I wanted the story to go. But the characters are always dragging the plot line sideways (especially Bucky, the bastard). I'm trying to keep them in line, I promise.

There was this sudden stand off that hung in time and space as Steve and Bucky held each other's eyes. Nothing moved, nothing stirred; the world had seemingly stopped spinning and was awaiting for a crucial decision to be made.

 

The back of Steve’s mind flickered with a succession of potential scenarios. Calling out to that voice was incredibly tempting, but the dragon would have more than enough time to rip him apart before whoever was up there found him. On the other hand, was there really going to be a second chance like this one?  Was there a possibility, however slight, that Bucky wouldn’t slice his throat if he was to call out?

 

The stand still seemed to stretch on forever, but Steve made up his mind when he heard the distinct “Rogers!” being bellowed outside, this time closer to the alcove.

 

“I’M DOWN HE--” 

 

A firm palm pressed against his mouth, the rest of his body being dragged against the dragon’s. His pitiful attempt at flailing out of the grip failed miserably. 

 

“I think I heard something over there,” another voice called.

 

But Bucky wouldn’t have it. He secured his captive in his arms and scurried through the alcove’s exit at an impressive speed, his grip still holding Steve’s mouth shut. The blond struggled with all the energy he could muster, even biting down on Bucky’s fingers in an undignified manner. He drew blood, but the painful hold on his jaw only strengthened. 

 

Bucky didn’t take him very far, only hurrying deeper in the gallery and stopping in a larger tunnel. He unceremoniously dropped the smaller man to the ground, Steve miraculously avoiding falling on his injured ankle by landing on his right side. He didn’t have time to shuffle in a sitting position for two strong hands pinned him under the armpits and placated him against the wall. 

 

The dragon’s glare was murderous, his face very close, his mouth thin and twisting as if he was deciding between lashing out or simply barb wired anger. Fear trickled around Steve’s chest, his heartbeat thundering. 

 

“You arrogant  _ child _ ,” the dragon spat. “What did you think would happen?” His eyes were wild, his teeth bared menacingly.

 

Steve just tilted his head sideways, avoiding the dragon’s reprimand. 

 

“You thought I was just going to let you be found and walk away?” His wings outstretched momentarily behind him, casting an ominous shadow. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

 

“I want out,” Steve spoke, not really thinking.

 

“Do you have the slightest idea what I could do to a small human being like you?” Bucky growled as he clenched harder at Steve’s shoulders.

 

And that’s when it clicked in the cadet’s mind. “...You didn’t.”

 

“What?”

 

“You… you could choke the life out of me in less than a few seconds, but you don’t. You haven’t hurt me since you’ve brought me in this cave. Hell, you seem pretty adamant at healing my injuries.”

 

Bucky just glared, still frowning.

 

Steve really,  _ really _ hoped he wasn’t off the reservation with this one. “Bucky… I don’t think you  _ want  _ to hurt me.” He swallowed. “The only thing I can’t figure out is why you’re so bent on keeping me down here. If you don’t want me dead, then I don’t get why you’d need an asthmatic human being to keep you company.”

 

The metal hand let go of his right shoulder to slip slowly under his chin. Steve sucked in a breath and shut his eyes, afraid that his neck would be snapped in the dragon’s quiet anger. The digits merely slid along his jaw bone before the rest of the palm simply rested on his cheek. The cadet would’ve gladly shielded his face with his hands, but his bound wrists prevented it.

 

“You don’t get the whole picture,” Bucky muttered, his temper still ill at ease, yet softer than expected.

 

He removed his hand.

 

“You’re not doing a great job at explaining stuff to me either,” the blond countered.  _ Real smooth, Rogers. _

 

The dragon replied with his usual quizzical stare.

 

“What do you need me for? Are you keeping me for your amusement?”

 

Bucky huffed out a small laugh. “If you think you’re  _ amusing _ , you’re sadly mistaken.”

 

“Then why?” Steve pressed on. He blinked a few times, his eyes leveling with the creature’s neck. “Does it have something to do with… this…?” He asked softly, wordlessly nodding towards the bandage.

 

Bucky shifted uneasily.

 

“It does, doesn’t it? But it… I don’t understand, it didn’t take. The taming didn’t work, I barely touched a spot on your neck with it… I didn’t do it properly at all.”

 

The hands holding him up suddenly disappeared, Steve sliding down the wall ungracefully. The dragon was moving away from him, running his flesh hand in his hair, troubled. He didn’t seem to notice the speckles of blood he left around because of Steve’s bite mark. 

 

“Bucky,  _ please _ . I need to know what’s going on…”

 

“You really don’t,” came the rough answer.

 

Steve gathered himself back in a sitting position, the uneven ground making it quite uncomfortable. “The soot didn’t work… did it?”

 

A small, manic chuckle escaped the dragon.

 

“Let me see,” Steve ordered.

 

With a shake of his head, Bucky resumed pacing restlessly in front of him.

 

“ _ Bucky _ . Let me see it, let me see your neck. If the taming took--”

 

“The soot didn’t work, you fool. It… it did  _ something _ , but I sure as hell ain’t your pet dog. You can’t order me around.”

 

Steve frowned slightly. “If it didn’t work… the soot hurt you, though, no? And even though you seem pretty well versed in anything healing, it still… bothers you?” Trying to puzzle everything together with Bucky being as uncooperative as he could was hurting his head. At the same time, the dragon’s restlessness seemed to indicate he was on the right track.

 

The dragon unconsciously raised his flesh hand to touch the bandage around his neck. 

 

“Bucky, if you let me have a look at it… I could maybe…”

 

“Could what? What exactly would you be capable of doing? And if you think I’m letting you near it again, you’re sorely wrong.” 

 

With that last statement, the winged man moved purposely towards Steve, crouching to pick him up once more. Only this time, to Steve’s dismay, Bucky swung his small body over his shoulder as if he was a mere flour pouch. 

 

“Hey, no! Bucky, please, come on…”

 

His pleas went unheard and after a few turns through more tunnels, Steve tried to get accustomed to having his head upside down and avoiding being smacked by a wing. He really hated the entire situation, his heart clenching at the thought that the people looking for him had been so close, and yet so far… Were they still trying to track him down? Had they really heard him call back?

 

Bucky took him back to the small alcove and dumped him roughly on the furs without a word. He still looked riled up from the ordeal, his features tense.

 

“If… if you keep my hands tied, and you hold onto the leash… you can shove me away anytime you want. I can look at your neck that way… and you’ll still be in complete control,” Steve babbled. “I actually know a bit about herbs and their properties, I’ve studied herbalism since I was a kid...:”

 

“You really  _ are  _ pigheaded,” Bucky mumbled. 

 

“You did the same for me… and I told you a bunch of times to get lost. It only seems fair that you’d let me return the favor.”

 

“You’re in no position to request something like this,” Bucky deadpanned. 

 

Silence fell once again and this time it felt as if it would allow no other argument. However, after a few moments, the dragon slowly lowered himself down next to Steve, taking the leash in his metal fist. The cadet stared at him in disbelief, unmoving. Using his right hand, the creature pulled at a strip of the bandage, unravelling it meticulously. Several layers had been carefully superimposed, making it a very slow process in Steve’s eyes. 

 

The cadet was hypnotized by the movement, for some reason feeling incredibly curious as to what laid underneath. He didn’t exactly understand why he needed to know, but a gut feeling made it seem very important. Bucky’s warm body was close to his, his gaze analyzing Steve with rapt attention. It made Steve feel vulnerable, even though this time he wasn’t the one exposing his wound.

 

The last strand of linen finally peeled off, the sight underneath making Steve gape. A very dark mark seemed to have infected the skin there, running its veiny-like tendrils from its center (probably where the soot had hit him) and spreading outwards. It almost looked as though a malevolent long-legged spider was trapped under the flesh, leaving some raw burnt patches of skin in its wake. It seemed painful.

 

Steve rose his hands slowly, encountering a little resistance from the leash before Bucky let him carry on. His fingers brushed along one of the thinner black veins and he felt the dragon swallow.

 

“The skin’s… burnt…” he whispered, breaking the tense silence.

 

“I’m a dragon, doll. Don’t think I can physically  _ get _ burns.”

 

“Did you try to treat it like a burn?”

 

Bucky sighed. “The thing’s under my skin. It’s not a burn, it’s your fucking soot that did this to me.”

 

“You have all these herbs and salves… have you tried using comfrey or oregon grape roots? If you mash them with chaga mushrooms, you could probably get a decent salve...”

 

“These don’t grow on the island.”

 

Steve pondered. “Have you ever tried using aloe milk for something else than spiking up water then?”

 

“You’re persistent. You’re trying to treat it like it’s a burn, it won’t work.”

 

“Let me try,” Steve asked.

 

The dragon “tsked”, but reached beside the furs for the wooden box containing the multiple jars. He unscrewed a small flask. “Aloe milk,” he stated. 

 

“Are these plantain leaves?” Steve asked, nodding towards the box. The few round leaves were placed in his hands without a word. “Can you pour a bit of the aloe milk onto them?”

 

Bucky apprehensively did as he was told, clearly peeved at being ordered around. The white-ish substance was quickly absorbed into the leaves. With a deliberate motion, Steve approached the dragon’s neck anew, sensing that his captor was tensing up. He pressed the plantain leaves softly against the worst of the mark, making sure all the burnt spots were covered. To his surprise, he felt Bucky sigh out in what sounded like relief. He deemed it important not to mention it.

 

What came next made Steve jump in panic. He hadn’t realized that Bucky had a  _ knife _ in his hands, and now the dragon was crowding him.

 

“I… what are you doing? Bucky? BUCKY?”

 

_ Snap. _

 

With his arms raised above his head in attempt at shielding himself, Steve felt something slide off his wrists, only to realize it was the rope. He first stared in disbelief at his free hands, and then at the dragon.

 

Bucky gave him a grave look, but didn’t comment, only tossing the knife back into the wooden box.

 

“Th… thanks,” Steve stuttered, still somewhat shocked. He massaged his wrists, the skin raw.

 

He gingerly picked up the discarded bandage, and opted for wrapping it back around the dragon’s neck, keeping the improvised medicine underneath. He slowly shifted forward, this time their dynamic having changed. Without the restraints, Steve almost felt like the dragon trusted him. He cautiously layered the linen back, avoiding staring into the cold eyes as Bucky’s face was far too close for comfort. 

 

Without asking permission, he gingerly picked up an extra bandage from the box and slowly wrapped it around the dragon’s palm. Steve had left a nasty bite mark there, and even though he tried not to feel sorry about it, he couldn’t help but patch it up as well. The dragon let him loop the linen, his strong hand relaxed.

 

“I still… don’t understand how this has anything to do with you wanting to keep me down here,” Steve whispered when he was finished. “But I guess that the taming really didn’t work… they never told us about this sort of thing happening.”

 

In truth, Steve had barely paid any attention to the seminars held on tamings. His first reason was evident: he wasn’t really cut out to be a master of any kind, and wrestling a creature into submission didn’t feel like something he’d do anytime soon (go figure). The second reason was that he had spent most of his energy on keeping his body healthy to follow the physical training as best as he could… that was the real challenge for him.

 

The creature breached his personal space once more. “No, like I told you, it didn’t work. If it had, you would have felt it.”

 

“Felt... what?” Steve was a bit antsy at having the dragon moving even closer to him.

 

Tilting his head sideways, Bucky placed his palm on Steve’s belly. The young man tried to dampen his blush, he felt this was too intimate for comfort. “You’d feel it. In your guts. You’d just  _ know _ .” After a pause, he moved his hand up to place two fingers on Steve’s temple. “And you’d sense it in your head as well.”

 

Although his hands were free now, Steve really wished he knew what to do with them. He just stood motionless, holding his breath.

 

“...But you’d never tame  _ me _ ,” Bucky spoke, the corners of his lips curling.

 

Steve sighed. “But you’re not letting me go either.”

 

“Correct.”

 

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

 

The dragon removed his hand from Steve’s features, but Steve went and grabbed his palm. He acted without thinking, probably surprising them both equally. Instinct took over, and Steve settled Bucky’s fingers right on his own bandaged neck, exactly where the horned man had tried to choke him. He held the wrist there just as he held his captor’s stare, courage and nervousness battling in his mind.

 

“You wanted to do this. To me,” Steve spoke, strangely leveled. “You pressed so hard that you made me blind and I couldn’t feel my feet and hands.” He forced Bucky’s palm towards his adam’s apple, almost challenging the creature to repeat his actions. The loose grip momentarily tightened, but barely. “I felt like my heart was located in my throat and you were crushing it out of my ears. It was painful.” The digits stayed frozen in place. “Do it,” Steve taunted, dragging the hand against his throat more forcefully. “You wanted to. There’s nothing stopping you now, no taming soot, no nothing.  _ Do it. _ ”

 

Bucky snapped his hand back in a flash, clearly troubled. “No.”

 

“Why the hell not?”

 

“I won’t,” Bucky whispered.

 

“You seemed pretty into it a few nights ago! What changed, Bucky? What  _ changed _ ?”

 

“Even if I wanted to, I  _ can’t _ !” Bucky shouted.

 

A pause.

 

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, more softly.

 

“I… the soot did something to me,” Bucky muttered, his eyes focused on anything but Steve.

 

“The soot makes it so you can’t hurt me?”

 

Bucky ran his hands through his hair. “It… the mark it left, it’s connected to you. In someway, I guess. The mark was way worse when you were beaten unconscious, and ever since you’ve been healing,  _ it’s  _ been getting better, too.”

 

Steve processed the information. “So… in other words, the more I heal, the smaller the mark gets. But if I was to… if you were to hurt me...”

 

“The second you’re in pain, I feel it,” Bucky finished bluntly. 

 

Steve tried to think back on what he had learned during all those classes on the tamings, but he was pretty sure he’d at least have a small recollection of details such as these if they had been covered. For all he knew, this had never happened to anyone else. Why in the world did this have to land on him. 

 

Simultaneously, he realized the leverage he had gained with this information. It meant that Bucky not only wasn’t going to hurt him, but that he’d probably protect him at any cost if he got himself in danger. This… could work in his favor.

 

In his outburst, Bucky had seized the rope anew.

 

“Oh, please don’t tie me up again,” Steve shuffled backwards.

 

Bucky sighed. 

 

“Bucky,  _ please _ . You have to trust me.”

 

The dragon relented, glaring at the rope with indecision.

 

“Bucky, I don’t know how to fix this thing… but back at the Tower, I’m sure I could find a cure or something to break the connection.”

 

“I haven’t decided if I’m letting your hands unbound and you’re trying to bargain for a leave of absence?” Bucky chuckled.

 

“I don’t want this anymore than you do.”

 

“Except that  _ you _ got the good end of the deal,” Bucky moralized. “You don’t feel pain if  _ I  _ get hurt. I don’t have any form of guaranty that you’re going to fix anything if I let you go.”

 

Bitterness radiated off the dragon, his wings twitching.

 

“Then… come with me,” Steve awkwardly suggested.

 

A distrustful stare shot his way.

 

“You want me… to follow you back to the military.”

 

“Just until I find a way to fix the mark. Then you can leave and come back here.”

 

Bucky outright laughed. “You’re so full of promises. You really need this,” he chuckled as he grabbed Steve’s hands in a sweeping motion, expertly looping the rope around them.

 

“No, Bucky, listen to me,” Steve replied in a panicky voice. “Come to the Tower with me. If you can pretend that I’ve tamed you, they won’t question you being there at all. And I’ll be able to research this weird condition you have and find a solution.”

 

“I’m not going near the military.”

 

“And what’s your other option? Hope for the mark to just go away by itself? Always get a nagging at the back of your mind, hoping I don’t try to escape? The taming soot’s chemicals are really powerful, this might be permanent if we don’t do something about it.”

 

Bucky turned a deaf ear, fastening the restraints even tighter than they were before.

 

As a last resort, Steve struggled forward, launching himself off of the nest of furs. The dragon mustn’t have expected this, for he didn’t even have the time to stop the smaller man. He landed on his two feet, his injured ankle giving way under his weight as a shock of pain sparked up his leg. It felt like daggers were prodding at his bones, but that was just what he was aiming for. He yelped, curling on himself on the floor as Bucky pressed a hand against the bandaged mark, his features upset. Despite the deep ache, Steve shot him a dirty look. 

 

Bucky frowned, clearly thinking everything through. “You’re so troublesome.”

 

“Come back to the Tower with me.”

 

“Like they’ll believe that you, above everyone else, managed to tame a dragon.”

 

Steve gave him an offended look, even if he did agree with the whole situation being ridiculous. “If you act like I’ve tamed you, they’ll have no choice but to let you on the Tower’s grounds.”

 

Steve scooted back towards the furs, tentatively nudging at the dragon’s knee. “I don’t… have any reason to harm you. I’ll find a way to cancel out the mark and you’ll be free to go.”

 

Staring intently at the floor, Bucky huffed. “If I do as you say, you need to swear to me that you’ll hold your word.”

 

“Sure, yes,” Steve rapidly replied.

 

“You know what swearing to a dragon means, don’t you. If you break this promise, you’ll owe me your life.”

 

Steve gulped as Bucky helped him back onto the makeshift bed. “Okay,” he said.

 

“Say it.”

 

“I swear… that I’ll find a way to remove the mark and that you’ll be free to go once it’s gone,” the cadet stated.

 

Bucky scanned his eyes for a brief moment, but seemed satisfied. “Good boy.”

 

\-------------------------------

 

Steve spent a great deal of energy trying to convince the dragon to leave right away, but Bucky obviously had other plans. He had tied the blond back to the wall, leaving him with a meal consisting of two boiled eggs, tomatoes and blackberries as he rummaged through his belongings. The cadet didn’t know what rendered him more anxious: missing the pick up schedule on the beach, or bringing back an untamed dragon with him.

 

Bucky eventually announced he was ready to leave and untied his captive with a bitter look. He even took out the remnants of Steve’s dirty uniform and helped the smaller man get dressed, deciding to leave his left boot behind. His ankle was still more than tender. Taking Steve in his arms again, he walked them out of the cave, following a long winding path through the tunnels. 

 

Wind hit Steve’s face when he finally spotted the exit that lead to a wide open space. The sky was dark and cloudy, gusts of air whistling all around. A storm was brewing, though the rain was thankfully missing.

 

As the dragon stepped outside, Steve couldn’t even feel discouraged at the weather because this wasn’t a prison, and he wasn’t going to die lost inside a cave. And maybe, just maybe, the blimp was waiting for him. He really couldn’t wait to see Natasha again.

 

After a moment of utter relief, Steve tried to locate himself. They were standing in an elevated plateau overlooking a few miles of dense forest. He couldn’t tell which direction they were facing.

 

“We’re supposed to be picked up by the beach on the southern side of the island,” Steve instructed.

 

The dragon stiffened and Steve realized that his eyes were wide and focused on a spot above his head. 

 

When Steve turned to look at the creature’s concern, he quickly noticed that agent Carter was standing very still by a tree, pointing a gun at the both of them. To be fair, she was most probably targeting the dragon, but Steve felt his heart sink in his stomach nonetheless. 

 

“DON’T,” he yelped at her. “Please, it’s okay!”

 

Bucky stayed still, but Steve felt every muscle in the dragon’s body constrict. Had he been alone against this woman, he’d probably would’ve attacked. 

 

Only, she wasn’t alone. Concealed in the foliage next to her was her valiant chimera, the beast crouched and focused on Bucky.

 

Without lowering her weapon, she spoke. “Steve, walk towards me. Get away from that creature.”

 

“Agent Carter, I’m okay, he’s… tamed,” Steve babbled, hoping that she wouldn’t outright see through his lie.

 

“What?”

 

“He won’t hurt me, I’ve tamed him,” he repeated, more confidently this time. “I’m sorry I can’t walk, my ankle’s in a bad shape… please don’t shoot.”

 

Still not moving the gun, she looked the pair over. “You’ve tamed this…  _ creature _ .”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

Feeling the threat, Steve felt Bucky’s arms tightened around him. Was the dragon really trying to shield him?

 

He didn’t have time to dwell on the thought because rustling was heard next to his superior and Natasha appeared, followed by Clint. They were both covered head-to-toe in caked mud, their uniforms unrecognizable and they’re eyes dark rimmed.

 

“STEVE,” Natasha cried out, relief in her voice, but apprehension infiltrating her eyes as she analysed the situation.

 

The blond smiled at her. “Nat…”

 

“What in the world…” came Clint’s confused voice.

 

“Steve, what… what is this? Who’s he?” Natasha tried to even out her tone, but puzzlement filtered through.

 

“It’s okay, he’s on my side. He’s the creature I’ve tamed.”

 

Bucky wordlessly straightened out, his gaze scanning the four intruders.

 

Agent Carter finally shifted the barrel of her gun upwards, but kept it at the ready. “Rogers, this creature, it’s… a…”

 

“...A dragon,” Clint finished, his voice half-laughing, half-disbelief.

 

Natasha tentatively moved closer to the pair. “Why is he carrying you?”

 

“I fell down a ravine and twisted my foot badly, I can’t really walk.” At the very least, this wasn’t a lie.

 

The dragon retreated a step backwards when the redhead got closer to them. He was definitely shielding Steve.

 

“But you’re alive,” she said softly, smiling.

 

Steve chuckled, thinking on how he’d believed many times he wouldn’t be for very long.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a static sound. “We’re going to need an emergency pick up on the mountain side of the island,” agent Carter spoke in a handheld radio. “We found him. You’re going to have to get as close to the eastern plateau as you can. And dispatch a chopper with medical supplies.”

 

Confirmation came from the other side of the line.

 

“A chopper?” Steve inquired. “What about the dirigible?”

 

His superior frowned slightly at him, her uncertainty about the horned man still heavy in her eyes. “You’ve missed the blimp, Rogers. It left the island two hours ago. These two have been looking for you for the entirety of the Reaping and were adamant about taking a part in the search team.”

 

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m… late for the pick up,” he repeated.

 

\-------------------------------

 

The ride back was the most surreal experience. A military chopper managed to land near the exit of the cave and they were all brought inside the aircraft, Steve being placed on a gurney despite Bucky’s clear struggle with not having him as close. He stayed right next to the smaller man, eyeing all personnel that would examine or touch him.

 

Natasha explained how they hadn’t understood where he’d gone the next morning when they had woken up and had spent the following days trekking around the island in search of him. On the third day, she’d even used up her flare to call for aid, hoping Shield would help her find Steve. Turned out that the military had responded by dispatching three search teams (including agent Carter’s) in effort of finding the missing cadet. Shield  _ did _ use the death of previous rookies during their first Reaping missions as a scare tactic, but they really wanted to avoid such events at any cost if possible. 

 

Steve was very surprised that Clint had decided on joining up with the search team. They didn’t know each other all that well, and the guy had risked his life for him. 

 

It turned out that Natasha and Clint had spent so much of their energy on finding Steve that they hadn’t had any time to think about taming any creature. They both shrugged it off and Natasha swore that she was happier at having found Steve alive.

 

The questions that really bothered Steve remained unasked. He desperately needed to know if he was being dismissed, if he’d have to deal with the dragon’s mark on his own. He also worried that Natasha had forfeited her chance at Shield by using up her emergency flare. If she was to leave because of him, he didn’t think he’d live with that idea very well.

 

The redhead asked Steve many questions about his taming during the trip, always keeping an eye on the dragon. Although she didn’t outright mention it, her perplexity was unambiguous. For his part, the cadet kept it as vague as he could, briefly mentioning how the creature attacked him before he managed to make a soot collar around his neck. He forwent every detail about being kept in a cave and bargaining for leaving it. He explained the bandages by saying that the dragon had some in his lair and had accepted to treat him with them once he had been tamed (tamed beasts being keen at keeping their masters alive on a normal basis). Although the made up story made sense laced with truth, he could clearly see that Natasha was suspicious. He’d probably tell her about the real ordeal later on when they’d be alone, he owed her that tenfold.

 

It didn’t take long for the aircraft to land on the Tower’s grounds and for Steve to be escorted out towards the infirmary level. Bucky tagged along, making sure the small cadet was always within his line of sight. He seemed disconcerted by the situation, but hadn’t spoken a word since there were new people around them. Steve concluded that the dragon really wasn’t kidding when he had said that he didn’t speak to  _ his kind _ .

 

Still on the gurney, Steve was brought into a small white room. The officer strolling him in gave the dragon a tense look as he left, probably deeming it unsafe to ask the creature to leave (as Bucky probably wasn’t allowed in this place at all).

 

“Someone’ll be with you shortly,” the man said as he clicked the door shut.

 

They were alone again.

 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked Bucky in a low voice.

 

Bucky rolled his eyes and “tsked” his way, a tic that was showing up as being a favorite of his.

 

The door suddenly reopened, letting in a grey haired man that sported a lab coat and round glasses.

 

“Dr. Erskine,” Steve straightened on the inclined gurney.

 

“Steven Rogers,” the man smiled. He glanced at Bucky quickly. “Word has it you’ve been quite… busy.”

 

“I… yes, sir.”

 

All Steve craved to ask was whether or not he had passed the Reaping, but didn’t know how to bring up the question. 

 

“Have the medics on the aircraft taken a look at your injuries already?” Dr. Erskine enquired as he motioned towards Steve bandages.

 

“Huh? Oh, no. I got them patched during the mission, sir.”

 

The man gave him a strange look, but didn’t follow up with the issue. “And what about the…  _ dragon _ . How is the match working out for you?”

 

Steve figured that Erskine was referring to that uncanny connection that happens between a tamed beast and its master. “It’s going well.”

 

“No hardships?”

 

“None yet, sir.”

 

The man in the lab coat gave a quick once-over towards Bucky, seeming as though he wanted to comment, but held his tongue. He smiled softly at Steve. “I’m glad you’re okay, Steven,” he added with sincerity in his voice.

 

“Thank you,” the younger man smiled back. 

 

“How do you feel?”

 

“Tired,” Steve chuckled softly. “My ankle’s bothering me, but I… sir, I’d like to know… if I’m being… if Shield is sending me away.”

 

Dr. Erskine raised his eyebrows. “This is not a question I can answer, unfortunately. The nurse will be here in a few moments, technically I’m not even supposed to be here. I believe someone higher up like agent Carter will inform you about your status when a decision will have been reached.”

 

Steve nodded, finding small comfort in the fact that he wasn’t outright being kicked off the grounds and that his superiors felt like the issue needed to be discussed.

 

The older man placed a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder, and out of the corner of his eyes, Steve believed he saw Bucky’s wings twitch. “Concentrate on healing your injuries, Steven. Worry about the rest later.”

 

With those last words, he exited the room, letting in a small woman with thick glasses on. 

 

The nurse spent a great deal of energy examining the cadet over the course of the following hour, making him strip to his underwear and cutting off all the linen that covered his bruises. Steve thought he heard the dragon growl when she got close to his twisted ankle, but he chucked it down to his imagination. 

 

A series of tests were made on him to evaluate his physical condition (turned out that his ankle had torn ligaments, but no actual broken bones) and blood samples were taken from his left arm. All of his injuries were rewrapped into finer bandages and he was given a splint that held his foot and calf tightly. The nurse purposely avoided looking towards Bucky for the entire time.

 

When she was done, she helped Steve into a set of soft training clothes that showcased Shield’s logo on its effigy. 

 

“They asked me to send you on the twenty-fifth floor when you’d be done here,” she stated. “Here’s your activation code for the lift.” She handed him a coupon with a series of numbers on it.

 

“Who will I be meeting with?” Steve asked.

 

She shrugged. “I don’t know, they didn’t tell me anything else.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “I can send someone to stroll you to the elevator in a wheelchair, or I can give you a crutch.”

 

“The crutch, please,” Steve quickly answered. He’d had his fill of having other people taking him places.

 

As Steve and the dragon made their way to the elevator, the cadet noticed how close the creature stood next to him. Bucky eventually placed a hand on his shoulder, making his stilted walk stop. 

 

“I’ll carry you,” the horned man suggested, looking around and making sure they were alone in the hall.

 

“Bucky, I’m doing fine. I don’t know why you’re so fidgety, but I’d rather be able to move around on my own.”

 

Bucky pinched his lips in reply.

 

When they arrived at the elevator lobby, Steve punched in the code that gave him access to the upper level and they soon were shipped upwards.

 

The ride up was slow, Steve’s heart finding it adequate to start beating louder in his bubbling anxiousness. When the doors would slide open, he’d have to face head on what was presented to him. Was agent Carter going to sit him down and announce the bad news? Or maybe she’d quickly drop the guillotine and his whole story with Shield would just end right away.

 

As peculiar as it felt on a normal basis, the blond found comfort in having the dragon close to him. He could feel the heat radiating off of the beast, and it grounded him.

 

The elevator smoothly terminated its ascension before its doors glided sideways. Revealed before them was a wide meeting space with a few steps that led them down to a large table. The lights were subdued, and the sun outside the gigantic bay window had just set, leaving the sky in an orange glow.

 

“Steven Grant Rogers,” came a serious voice from the back of the room.

 

Steve’s head snapped up and he tried to straighten out his back as best as he could even if the crutch didn’t allow for much movement.

 

A man stood on the opposite side of the glass meeting table, a large black coat cloaking him and an eyepatch covering his left eye. This man… wasn’t agent Carter. This imposing man was Colonel Nick Fury, director of Shield.

 

The cadet gulped, his mouth suddenly very dry.

 

“Sir,” he said, as steady as he could.

 

“Glad to see you can stand, soldier. Word has it they had to carry you in on a gurney.”

 

“Yes, sir. I have some torn ligaments on my left ankle, but it’s not broken, sir.” 

 

Hidden from the director’s sight, Steve felt Bucky place a warm hand on his spine.

 

“Hm. Come, have a seat.”

 

Steve trudged towards the end of the table as Fury sat down. Steve mirrored him, now face to face. Bucky stood vigilant behind him.

 

“There aren’t any remarkable mentions of you in any of your training’s report,” the man spoke gravely.

 

Steve remained silent, feeling so small under the severe stare.

 

“You’ve even hindered a couple of training sessions and cost your group extra rounds of workouts on four separate occasions.”

 

“Sir.”

 

“The only redeeming note in your file is that Dr. Erskine believed you were worth giving a chance to.”

 

Steve tried to control his breathing as best as he could.

 

“Two weeks,” the director stated.

 

“I’m… sorry, sir?”

 

“You’re off the physical training for two weeks. You’ll still attend all seminars and lectures otherwise, and you’ll be placed in mandatory mythical creature training.”

 

“You’re not… I’m not… being kicked out, sir?”

 

Fury frowned, as if he was still considering whether or not this decision was for the better.

 

“Although our records show nothing outstanding about you… you managed something unprecedented by anyone here at Shield.” He dismissively motioned towards the dragon, as if he wasn’t all the impressed by the beast. “I’ll say this once: there are no known records of anyone, anywhere, having successfully tamed a dragon.”

 

Steve’s eyes widened.  _ He wasn’t being dismissed. _

 

“Plus, you seem to be able to inspire loyalty in some of your comrades.”

 

The cadet tensed. “Sir, if I may ask… about Natasha Romanoff…”

 

“What about her?”

 

“I know that she used up her flare during the Reaping, but…  _ she _ wasn’t the one in need, she did it in hopes of getting help finding me. If… she’s in the top tiers of my group, and if she was to be dismissed…”

 

“That decision does not belong to you,” Fury expressed. “Although, her training records show more promise than yours, and Shield is in dire need of potential spying recruits. The council has deemed her fit for the Shield program.”

 

Steve breathed out. Things were looking up, so much weight lifting off of his shoulders.

 

“Congratulations, Rogers. You’ve passed your first Reaping mission.” Fury gave him the first smile since he’d arrived. “Are you ready to meet your teammates?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I was writing this, I kept wanting Bucky to go OOC and whisper "you don't have enough badges to train me" in Steve's ear, but it unfortunately never happened.


	4. Team Building

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries to settle back at the Tower, with a dragon in tow. Having Bucky around is more complicated than he anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Okay, so I'm updating on a Monday night. I won't lie, this chapter was harder than the others to write, mostly because it sets up a lot of elements for future plot. I just hope it doesn't come off as awkward, you have no idea how many times I deleted paragraphs and just started over. But if some things do come off as weird, please let me know. I really do believe I can improve stuff if people point out things to me that don't make sense.

“Door 325… door 325…” Steve mumbled as he and Bucky walked along a dark corridor.

 

When the meeting with Fury had ended, he’d been told to drop off his dragon in the creatures’ lodgings that were located in the Tower’s basement (who knew these levels of the Tower even existed).  He was given a specific room that had been arranged to fit his creature’s needs. 

 

Bucky was far from enthusiastic at the prospect, looking around and frowning at everything. In all honesty, the hall in which they were standing was very bare and unappealing, though Steve did find it similar to the cave back on the island. No other sound than their own echoing footsteps could be heard. 

 

“Ah, it’s this one,” the cadet announced once they reached a thick metallic door without any window. The three bold numbers were engraved within the door itself.

 

Leaning on his crutch, Steve produced a square-shaped key from his pocket which unlocked the door when he clicked it within the handle. Inside, the small chamber held very simple accommodations: a thin mattress placed on the concrete floor, a tap for cold water and a brassy toilet bowl. The walls and ceiling were concrete as well, a flickering light embedded above the bed remained the only light source.

 

The pair entered the room, Steve trying not to feel bad for the dragon. All in all, the bastard was the reason he was stuck in this situation if he looked back on it. He couldn’t blame Steve for this.

 

But he did. “You’re not leaving me here.” It was stated more as a fact than a question.

 

“Don’t really have a choice,” the cadet replied.

 

“Sure you do. Just bring me back to wherever you’ll be sleeping, doll.”

 

“Your kind’s not allowed in the dorms, Bucky. Don’t worry, I’m to pick you up for training tomorrow morning anyway, you just have to spend the night here.”

 

The dragon grinned, his eyebrows raised. “Training, huh.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

The horned man leaned against the door and shut it abruptly, the space feeling undersized for the both of them.

 

“You’re going to train  _ me _ ?” The dragon rephrased, borderline laughing.

 

“You heard what Fury said, I don’t have a say in the matter,” Steve tried to sound as matter-of-factly as he could.

 

The dragon pressed two fingers under the cadet’s chin, their eyes meeting. “Sure, you’re under orders here,” he whispered. “But don’t forget… I am  _ not _ your pet,” he growled as he flicked the two fingers off of Steve’s features. “When will you start working on removing the mark?”

 

“T… tomorrow afternoon. They’re doing physical training, but I’m not attending, so I’ll be able to start then.” The dragon had a way of always pulling the rug from underneath him.

 

“Fine.” Bucky scanned his room over. “Such living quarters you’re letting me have.”

 

“Your hospitality wasn’t all that great either.”

 

“But I stayed with you. And you were never cold,” he added, a curious tone in his voice. “Are you sleeping here as well?”

 

“I’m not,” Steve huffed. “I told you, I need to get to my dorm and meet my new teammates. You don’t need to worry about me getting hurt, I’m staying on the Tower’s grounds… your mark’s safe.”

 

The dragon turned back towards him. “Sit,” he ordered.

 

“What?”

 

Bucky didn’t bother repeating himself and just swooped his flesh arm and a wing around Steve, making him lose his balance before dropping him on the flimsy mattress.

 

“Bucky, what in the world--”

 

The dragon was pulling his left pants leg up, revealing the splint and new gauze. 

 

Steve dragged his leg away. “What are you doing?”

 

A firm grip hauled the foot back in place and the dragon rose the injured member slightly, examining it from all angles. He looked as though he disapproved. His fingers hovered over the top seam of the affected area and then they brushed against the opposite end of the bandages.

 

“It’s too tight. And whatever shit she put on the bruises, it’s going to dry the skin out.”

 

Steve pondered about the affirmation for a second. “Are you concerned? I highly doubt it’s going to translate onto your mark.”

 

Bucky gave him a thoughtful look, and placed the foot back on the bed. “Are you really going to your own lodgings?” he asked with a smirk.

 

“Yes, Bucky. For the hundredth time.” 

 

The creature placed his palm on Steve’s cheek, and the blond was pretty sure the dragon was low key doing that radiating heat thing with his hand. He tried not to think about how pleasant it felt.

 

“You’re going to be so  _ cold _ out there,” the dragon spoke, a certain light dancing in his eyes.

 

Steve tried to shrug off the strange feeling he felt washing over him. “Enough about this,” he stammered. “I’m going.”

 

He struggled to stand back up, using the wall as leverage and refusing to hold onto the dragon for help. He picked up his crutch anew and staggered towards the door. 

 

Before exiting, he bit his bottom lip. “I’ll be here in the morning. Please… don’t cause any trouble…”

 

With those last words, he shuffled out of the chamber before the dragon replied anything (not that he was entirely certain he’d be replying at all) and locked the door behind him. He couldn’t look at Bucky as he did so.

 

\-------------------------------

 

After exiting the Tower through the main entrance, it took him a few more minutes than usual to reach the dorm building due to his limping. His new room was on the upper level now, and he’d been told that his belongings had already been moved up.

 

The cadet suddenly felt nervous about meeting the people he’d be siding with for the foreseeable future. Was he going to be accepted within the group? Were they going to be disappointed in being appointed an asthmatic rookie who, for the time being, even needed a crutch to move around? Steve had been discriminated against because of his body ever since he was a child, so he already expected the worst. He tried to find comfort in the fact that he’d just survived being kidnapped by a dragon for four days, so he could probably manage facing these people, whoever they were.

 

He indulged in taking the maintenance elevator to reach his floor. No way was he suffering four flights of stairs with a torn ankle to get there.

 

When he trudged out of the lift, he immediately noticed his door on the left, the one that was ajar, voices ringing inside. He pushed the wooden door slowly.

 

“...and they refused my design proposal, can you belie--”

 

“He’s here!”

 

Steve stood before four other people, all of them gawking at him. 

 

“Hi… hum… I’m--

 

“Rogers!” A dark haired man with a strange shaved beard swung an arm around his shoulder, seemingly unbothered at all by the crutch. “The dragon tamer! Got a load of questions I need to ask you, dragon tamer.”

 

“Tony, let the kid breathe, he’s been through a lot in the last few days,” came the reprimand. Another man stood by the first two bunk beds, but Steve soon noticed he wasn’t looking at a fellow human being for a pair of antlers ornamented his head. “I’m Bruce,” came his introduction.

 

“Yeah, this is my Bruce,” the man called Tony smirked. “He’s my very own forest spirit.”

 

“A forest spirit…” Steve mulled over.

 

“And I’m Tony Stark. You can call me Tony, and if you’re real nice, I’ll even consider examining your dragon for upgrades.”

 

“What…”

 

“He’s being ridiculous, Steve, ignore him,” Bruce informed, giving his master a meaningful look. 

 

“I thought… we weren’t allowed to bring creatures in here,” Steve remarked.

 

“We’re not,” Tony quipped with a sly grin.

 

“I’ll be going soon,” the forest spirit replied. “Tony wanted me to meet our new member. Here, this is Sam, I think you were in the same group…”

 

“Hey man,” the soldier called as he stood up. He extended his hand. “The stories about you are quite intense right now, you really want to tell us your side of things when you’re settled. Welcome to the team.”

 

The handshake was firm, but friendly. Steve had seen Sam in his group before, but they’d never talked. He seemed amiable, for the time being.

 

“Is that your creature?” Steve inquired, nodding towards a bird-like thing flying around the dorm’s ceiling. “Wait, is that a…  _ phoenix _ ?!”

 

“No, no,” Sam laughed wholeheartedly. “This ain’t a live one, Stark made it for me. He says it’s a prototype, but the thing’s as useful as a real phoenix, so I kept it. His name is Redwing.”

 

The bird-like bot landed on a bedpost, and Steve quickly realized that it was indeed entirely made of metal. It imitated the shape of a phoenix quite well, though.

 

“And this is Pietro,” Bruce announced.

 

Steve hadn’t recognized the silver haired man right away.

 

“Pleasure,” came the curt introduction. Steve shook his hand nonetheless. “Looking forward to working with you.”

 

It was a cold start, but Steve prefered that over being outright snobbed. Being placed in the same team as a top tier, he had trouble realizing this was really happening to him right now. Even if Pietro was a mysterious I-work-alone guy.

 

“Same here,” the blond replied.

 

“You’ll be bunking with Sam,” Tony announced. “Make sure you don’t leave any junk lying around, the man likes his space  _ clean _ .”

 

“I’m not that bad, Tony! You’re the one that keeps getting your weird shit all over the place.”

 

Steve smiled. He could deal with this.

 

“I thought teams were always minimum five people… weren’t I the last recruit to join in?”

 

“Oh, they didn’t tell you. Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton are part of the team, too, but they’re… err…” Tony motioned towards the opposite end of the room where a small living area was installed. On each of the two couches were Steve’s friends, both of them asleep profoundly. “They fell asleep about an hour ago while they were waiting for you to get here… guess the Reaping did a number on them too,” the man explained. 

 

“Don’t go past the curtains you see over there, they closed off the back section so that Romanoff can have her own space. Since she’s the only woman on the team and all,” Sam continued.

 

“This is… wow,” Steve said. He didn’t expect to be paired up with Nat and Clint, this was more than great.

 

“So where’s the dragon?” Tony questioned, transparent with curiosity.

 

“Oh, he’s… huh… in the creatures’ lodgings.”

 

“Yeesh, you left him there? Rough.”

 

“They told me it was mandatory.”

 

“Which is why I’ll be going, now,” Bruce spoke as he started walking towards the exit.

 

“Nah, nah, stay, Bruce, come on,” Tony pressured.

 

“I’m not supposed to be here, and I’d really rather not sleep on the floor.”

 

“Take Barton’s bed.”

 

The forest spirit sighed and Steve thought he saw a small vine curl out of his sleeve. “Give me my key, Tony.”

 

His master shook his head. “You don’t even like that dungeon. I promise to wake you up before sunrise so you don’t get busted. Now stay.”

 

Bruce rolled his eyes, but did as he was told.

 

Steve idly wondered if he’d ever have that kind of relationship with Bucky, but soon recalled that the dragon wasn’t even his. He felt something cold in the pit of his stomach at that thought.

 

“So… any other tamings happened?” Steve asked.

 

Sam shook his head. “I wanted to find a phoenix, but I’m getting used to this little guy here,” he said, pointing at Redwing. “Pietro here got himself a witch, I heard.”

 

The silver haired soldier slowly nodded, a tight smile on his lips. “She’s at the Tower right now,” he simply stated.

 

Steve nodded solemnly, stifling a strong yawn. “I think… if you don’t mind, I really need to crash.”

 

“Sure, sure, make yourself at home,” Tony gestured towards the rest of the room.

 

Sam had thankfully left him the bottom bunk, and so he simply dropped his body onto the mattress, placing the crutch against the wall. These dorms were much nicer than the ones used for the newcomers. For one, the rooms were less crowded and the bed frames were sturdier. They even had more space in between the bunks. Each soldier had a large trunk to store their belongings and a work desk.

 

He took out the small bottle of pills the nurse had prescribed him and swallowed his medicine quickly. It didn’t take long for his mind to go blank and his eyes to drop close. Slumber hooked its fangs onto him rapidly, but he did feel something quite strange in his core as he fell asleep. 

 

Indeed, he felt quite  _ cold _ .

 

\-------------------------------

 

Steve woke up with a gasp, not quite knowing where he was and fearing still being stuck in the cave. It was dark around him, but he recognized the dorm room after a few seconds. Everyone else were still asleep except…

 

“Morning, sunshine,” came a whisper beside him.

 

“Nat!”

 

“Ssh, it’s super early, let’s not wake everybody.”

 

Steve nodded, groggily rubbing his eyes with his palm. “Nat, we’re in the same--”

 

“--team,” she finished curtly, smiling.

 

“I thought… I was so worried they’d kick you out because of you using the flare…”

 

“Pssh. Kick  _ me _ out? They’re in dire need for anyone profiled to fit spy positions, they’re not kicking me out.”

 

“How did you know they profiled you as a spy?”

 

Her grinned widened, but she didn’t comment. “I’m happy you’re off the hook, too,” she replied instead.

 

“Yeah… so am I.”

 

“We need to talk. The cafeteria should open soon, let’s get out of here,” she suggested. 

 

The blond agreed and as quickly as his hindered leg would let him, he got dressed. He made as little noise as he could, deeming it rude to wake his teammates at an ungodly hour after their first night together in the same room. He noticed that Bruce, in the end, hadn’t fallen asleep in Clint’s bunk (which was under Tony’s), but was smooshed against a pillow in Tony’s bed, his legs dangling off the edge. Tony, snoring softly, was sprawled inelegantly next to him against the wall, an opened engineering manual opened in his lap. Something clicked in Steve’s head.

 

He also realized that Pietro’s bed was neatly made, empty. It didn’t surprise him all that much; the guy was probably off to early solo training.

 

Steve met up with his redhead friend outside the dorm building so they could make their way to the Tower.

 

“Tony…” Steve started as soon as he was close enough.

 

“No, Steve. I’m Natasha.”

 

Steve gave her a side glare. “I’m serious here, Nat. Tony, he’s… he’s  _ Tony Stark _ . Is he like…  _ the  _ Tony Stark? As in, Howard Stark’s son?”

 

“Ooh, you didn’t recognize him, did you?” She laughed. “That must’ve ticked him off good. Right now you’re not only outfaming him as the dragon tamer, but you didn’t even register who he is. This is gold.” Natasha was really enjoying the situation, her hand covering her mouth.

 

“I was too out of it yesterday,” Steve cleared up. “A lot of stuff happened in such a short amount of time…”

 

“I know, Steve, I know,” she said, more seriously. 

 

“But… he wasn’t in our group of entry level soldiers, was he? I would’ve had time to notice…”

 

“He wasn’t. He was in the science division of the military, but a year ago he participated in a Reaping mission as a guest of honor. He lucked out and tamed a forest spirit.”

 

“But why’s he on our team?”

 

“Shield wants him in their program because it’s sort of his father’s legacy. He just accepted to join this year because they’re letting him further all of his science research parallel to the training program. We’re just lucky to have him on our team. Or unlucky, depends on how you put it.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Having a Stark on his team on top of everybody else just added to his anxiety about not being good enough. He’d probably been placed in the team because they deemed his taming of the dragon to be an extraordinary feat. He seriously hoped they didn’t realize his lack of talent too soon.

 

“So… tell me about that dragon of yours.”

 

“What’s there to tell?”

 

His friend gave him a heavy look. “Come on, you’ve been holding back on me ever since we found you. You may fool a bunch of higher ups, but I know you too well, Steve. Spill.”

 

Steve sighed. He couldn’t tell her everything, but he sure as hell could bring her up to date on some details. “Well… he’s obnoxious, to say the least. And he’s really suspicious of everything.”

 

“He… talks,” Natasha questioned.

 

“Well, yeah.” And as he replied, he realized that Bucky had strongly avoided speaking in front of anybody else than him. “He does, a bit. But he doesn’t like it.”

 

Natasha frowned, but didn’t push the issue. “And what about that first night, when you fell down the cliff? Why did you venture out without waking up any of us?”

 

“I shouldn’t have,” Steve immediately replied, honesty bleeding through. “Nat… I’m  _ so _ sorry I did that… I wasn’t thinking… I’m really sorry.”

 

She flicked a finger at his shoulder. “It’s okay, Rogers. You’re alive. S’all that matters.”

 

Guilt still nibbled at his guts, but he smiled thankfully at her.

 

“And how do you feel about the match with your dragon?”

 

“The what?”

 

“You know, the sort of bond that people talk about when they tame their creature.”

 

For a split second, Steve considered telling her about not being truly connected with Bucky. He was sick of lying, especially to his close friend. But at the very same time, telling her would burden her with the secret… and he’d been enough of a burden to Natasha as it was.

 

“It weighs on me a bit, but now that we’re off the island, it’s slightly better.” He figured that if he was lying about the ordeal, he might as well talk about things that were true. His relationship with Bucky would probably settle in a less complicated manner now that he wasn’t the bastard’s prisoner.

 

“Hm. Is he good to you?”

 

“Huh?” Steve’s cheeks started burning, but he tried to dismiss it. There was absolutely no reason for him to be blushing.

 

“Well let’s face it, Steve, dragons are part of the most powerful creatures known to mankind. Even if you’ve tamed one… I mean, if he’s really pissed, he could probably find a way to hurt you.”

 

“It’s okay, Nat,” he reassured her. “I’ve got it under control.”

 

He probably didn’t. But at least, the mark was some sort of guarantee that Bucky wouldn’t outright attack him, however temporary this arrangement lasted.

 

They changed the subject when they entered the Tower and headed for the cafeteria. Very few people were up and about at this hour (it was still five in the morning), their footsteps echoing around the halls. As soon as Steve stepped inside the cafeteria and smelled the oven-baked croissant, his heart dropped in his stomach.

 

Were the creature’s even fed when they stayed in the lodgings?

 

Steve paled, feeling incredibly bad for not thinking it over beforehand. He quickly grabbed a cardboard box instead of a metal platter and started shoving random food items inside. Scrambled eggs, toasts, bacon, bananas… he couldn’t remember seeing the dragon eat anything while they were in the cave, but hoped he’d find something in there to be edible.

 

“You’re taking a box to go?” Natasha seemed puzzled.

 

“Yeah… I just remembered that I need to bring him food,” Steve hastily replied.

 

“You’re ditching me for the dragon.” 

 

He paused and looked at her, pained. “I’m sorry… I’ve got to get this to him before the training starts.”

 

“S’fine, Rogers,” she shrugged, switching her plate for a box as well. “I’ll just bring my breakfast back to the dorm and eat with the guys.”

 

“You mean Clint,” Steve corrected.

 

It seemed as though he hit the nail on its head because his remarked owed him a small smack at the back of the head.

 

He smiled innocently at her as she dumped bagels in her box.

 

\-------------------------------

 

Steve arrived, breathless, in front of the metal door that read 325. He’d almost slipped and lost his crutch twice to get there in a hurry. Now that he was facing the last barrier between him and the creature, he wasn’t sure he was all that prepared to see him again.

 

Cautiously, he unlocked the door and peeked inside. On the mattress, Bucky was laying on his back, blowing smoke rings above his head.

 

“Huh… hi,” Steve greeted.

 

Bucky tilted his head towards him as though he hadn’t noticed the door opening while the smoke ring dissipated in a haze.

 

“I don’t know what you eat on a normal basis, so I brought a bunch of different things…”

 

“Aw, so you’re feeding me, doll?”

 

Steve rolled his eyes. He entered the room and offered the box to the dragon as Bucky pushed himself to sit on the bed. The door clicked shut behind him.

 

The dragon lifted the box’s lid, analyzing its content. Steve suddenly felt nervous. “If you don’t eat… this sort of thing, I can try and find something else…” he wasn’t sure why he was being so generous about the food, but he recalled never going hungry while he was in the cave.

 

The dragon didn’t answer anything.

 

“I mean… you probably eat other stuff than stranded soldiers, right?” Steve joked awkwardly, trying to break the tension.

 

Bucky looked up at that. “I don’t eat your kind,” he stated simply. “This will do.”

 

“Oh,” Steve nodded. He really wished this fact had been made clear a great while ago. The retort “but you do kill people for sports, apparently” didn’t pass his lips. 

 

The dragon took out a slice of bacon and started eating slowly.

 

“Sit,” came the order again.

 

“I’m fine here,” Steve replied, still leaning on his crutch.

 

Bucky gave him a disbelieving look. “Sit down.”

 

The cadet considered for a moment, but there wasn’t any point in arguing. They had two hours to kill before the mythical creature training started, and he didn’t really feel like standing up on one leg until then. He sat down on the mattress (there wasn’t any other spot he could’ve rested on anyway), trying not to get too close to the other.

 

“Eat something,” the dragon pushed the opened box towards him.

 

“Oh, well I brought this for you.”

 

“But you didn’t eat breakfast.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

The dragon pushed a warm palm against Steve’s abdomen, making him jump.

 

“You’re stomach’s so loud I could hear it before you opened the door.”

 

Steve highly doubted that was true, but fished a toast out of the container so that Bucky would drop the issue. 

 

They ate in silence for a few minutes, until Steve felt jittery. 

 

“Were you okay with sleeping here?” he asked the dragon.

 

“Could be better,” Bucky replied. “Could’ve made with some company,” he added with a smirk.

 

Steve forced himself not to get flustered. “I thought dragons were solitary creatures.”

 

“Did your homework, huh.”

 

Shrugging, Steve took a bite out of his toast. “It’s a known fact.”

 

“And how did  _ you _ sleep, doll?”

 

“Just fine,” came his steady response.

 

Bucky smiled at himself as if he’d won an argument. 

 

“My team’s got other tamers, too. You’ll have to play nice when you meet them and their creatures.”

 

“You speak as though  _ you’ve _ tamed something,” Bucky countered with a precarious undertone. 

 

The cadet looked down. “I know. I know you’re not mine to control or whatever, but if you really want to get rid of the mark, you’re gonna have to play ball with the people they’ve placed me with. Please.”

 

The dragon rolled his eyes, but didn’t abnegate.

 

A few beats of silence.

 

“Bucky... can I ask about your arm?”

 

The dragon took a stiff intake of air and placed his metal arm out of sight, his left wing covering it slightly. “You may not.”

 

“But is it… I mean, it’s pretty high tech.”

 

Bucky glared at the half-empty box of food. “Drop it.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me how you got it, but if you need maintenance or something…”

 

Steve couldn’t finish his sentence, because the next moment, his arms were pinned to the mattress along with his upper body. 

 

“Don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish here, but you ain’t taking care of me, you hear? Don’t you forget that you’re not a tamer. You’re not in charge,  _ I am _ . And you don’t get to dredge up this,” he snarled as he clenched the metal grip a notch tighter around Steve’s bicep.

 

Steve flinched, finding himself once again pinned down by the dragon, his strength completely useless. And yet, the dragon wasn’t entirely right, Steve  _ did _ have some power over him. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

 

And Steve regretted speaking out, because now the dragon was full on straddling him, shifting so that both of his strong thighs braced the cadet’s hips. “Doll, there’s a whole world of things I can do to you without really hurting you,” he breathed in his ear.

 

A wild shiver ran down the smaller man’s spine as he couldn’t help but turn a deep shade of red.

 

“...Seeing how you’re reacting, I guess you’d even enjoy it,” the dragon spoke with a grin. He nimbly transferred both of Steve’s wrists in his metal hand’s grasp and ran his flesh palm down the center of his captive’s chest. Through the simple white t-shirt Steve was wearing, he could feel the touch press against his ribs, his sternum and then his concave stomach.

 

The palm was warm, making Steve’s guts somersault in something akin to want, but his brain overrode the feeling. 

 

“B… Bucky, get off of me.”

 

“Hm. What’s that about ordering me again?”

 

“Bucky,  _ get off of me now _ .”

 

The winged man brought his hand back up to Steve’s face, strangely cupping the side of his cheek in a gentle manner. He stared right at the cadet. “Don’t forget who you’re speaking to.”

 

As quickly as he had pushed the soldier down, he was off of him, sitting back against the wall and selecting the next thing he’d eat from the box.

 

Steve slowly rose, helping himself with his elbow.

 

He deemed it appropriate not to speak for the remaining of the time he was stuck in the dragon’s lodgings. For someone who was trying to pass himself as a tamer, he sure as hell felt like he was being the one pushed around. At the very least, it was in Bucky’s favor to at least  _ act _ tamed when they were in public. Their dynamic was just so much different when it was the two of them alone.

 

He also desperately wished that his body would stop reacting inappropriately to the dragon.

 

\-------------------------------

 

When the time came, they exited the Tower’s basement to reach the gymnasium where the mythical creature training would take place. As soon as Steve entered with the dragon following close behind, the other soldiers who’d arrived early all stopped speaking and turned to gape at the pair. A few curious whispers echoed behind them as they kept on walking, Steve desperately searching for a familiar face.

 

“It’s him, it’s the guy that tamed…”

 

“...the dragon tamer…”

 

“... _ that _ scrawny guy tamed a dragon??”

 

Steve wondered if they were even trying to be subtle. He could see multiple mythical creatures sticking close to their masters, some with more human-like features than others. There was even someone with a golem that towered over the rest of the crowd. 

 

The cadet felt slightly out of place with his crutch and multiple layers of bandages over his body. The gymnasium was very spacious, accommodating all types of beasts with its extremely high ceilings and rows of various training equipment.

 

“Rogers, over here!” Came a booming voice Steve recognized. Tony.

 

Steve smiled at his teammate, making his way over to him. Tony and Bruce were standing side-by-side, while Pietro and a young red-haired girl were sharing a quiet conversation behind them.

 

“Dragon tamer, you made it,” Tony greeted. His gaze immediately shifted to the dragon, but he obviously knew better than to start crowding a dangerous beast even though he was dying to do just that. “And you brought dark and handsome with you,” he added with a glint in his eyes.

 

“‘Morning, Tony,” Steve smiled in turn. “Hey, Bruce.”

 

The forest spirit evidently did not share his master’s enthusiasm towards the dragon, opting for staying slightly aside and scanning Bucky with his eyes. “Hey,” he replied slowly.

 

“Does your friend here have a biomechanic arm?” Tony questioned, full of excitement.

 

If looks could kill, Bucky’d have murdered Tony on the spot. It was bad enough that Steve had brought up the arm earlier, twice in a single day was probably intolerable. Although Tony didn’t acknowledge any of the tension, Steve cut him quickly. 

 

“Hum yes, Tony. Hey, do you know how the training’s supposed to go? I was just told to attend, but they never said anything about how the class is gonna go…”

 

“Don’t worry about it, everyone here is attending for the first time. Have you met Wanda?” Tony asked, turning towards the pair of secretive people at his back.

 

Pietro and the girl stopped speaking, and the silver-haired man took a step forward. “This is Wanda,” he put a hand on her forearm. “She’s a telekinesis witch.”

 

Steve then understood that she was not, in fact, a fellow recruit. Her eyes momentarily glowed red when he reached her gaze, a cold feeling running down his spine making him look away. There was definitely something supernatural about her, just as if she could see through his skull. He didn’t like it. Her attention quickly shifted towards Bucky, who was now far closer behind Steve than he’d been a few seconds ago. For no apparent reason, she slowly started grinning wickedly as she examined the dragon, putting her palm above Pietro’s fingers. Their non-verbal communication was strong, but Steve had trouble following what she was telling her master at all. She looked as though she’d found something incredibly funny.

 

The thundering “bang” of the gymnasium doors closing brought everybody back to attention, all of the recruits standing straight. In front of the crowd walked in an older man, followed by an impressively large griffin. Its wings were golden, the rest of its body covered in a luxurious coat of fur. 

 

“Soldiers, I am colonel Phillips,” he introduced with a voice that broached no interruption. “I’ll be supervising this training and you will either succeed this course or find yourself discredited of your title as a tamer.”

 

All were silent, his commanding presence grabbing everyone’s rapt attention. With the griffin at his side, the colonel had a very powerful aura, very similar to how agent Carter operated. 

 

“The training is divided into two main sections,” he continued. “Half of it consists in research, meaning that you’ll be asked to hand in a report every week. Since you all have a wide variety of different creatures, we can’t possibly provide you with the specific details you need to know on each of them. You’ll be responsible for building up documentation on your beast’s skills, its special attributes and its general behaviour. You’ll be allowed access to previous soldiers’ research so that you can build on top of what they have learned on their own creatures. The other half of the training will be more practical, ranging from training your creature to obey your orders, to simply devising battle strategy based on your skills. After a few weeks of training, you’ll be expected to bring your creature to all other physical training outside of this course in order to build good team combat patterns. Any questions?”

 

“What about developing creature-specific gears and add-ons?” Tony asked as soon as he could.

 

Everyone turned to stare at him.

 

“Pardon?” Colonel Phillips replied.

 

“Weapons, armor… biomechanical limbs,” Tony enumerated, eyeing Bucky’s metal arm as he stated the last one.

 

“You must be Stark,” the man sighed. “Heard they were letting you keep up with the science division while you were attending here. Use your time over there as you see fit, but here, you’re to follow the training divised by Shield.” 

 

Tony had the courtesy of waiting for his superior to turn his back to him to roll his eyes, annoyed. Steve noticed that Bruce was subtly stepping on his master’s foot.

 

\-------------------------------

 

Following colonel Phillip’s orders, soldiers were brought into the archive section of the Tower. It was very similar to the library (rows beyond rows of documentation with sectioned off work stations). Each soldier were handed a pile of Shield journals that contained data on their type of creatures. The rarer the creature, the thinner the pile. Steve was simply handed an empty notebook, colonel Phillips giving him an annoyed look as he delivered the item.

 

“Well, if it isn’t the dragon tamer. I’ll be honest with you here, I still expect a full report every week and I don’t care if you don’t have documentation to help you along,” his superior announced. He didn’t seem all that impress by Bucky, who was giving him a nasty stare. “Better keep your firedrake in check.”

 

Steve spent the rest of the time allowed writing down facts he knew about the dragon. Bucky kept hovering over his shoulder to check up on what he was listing, probably making sure that he wasn’t revealing too much. Steve felt like a double-agent, choosing what information he’d let Shield have while making sure not to compromise his situation with the dragon. 

 

He couldn’t even hint at the weird reaction the taming soot had had on the winged man. And there wasn’t a chance that Bucky would let him describe how or where he lived on the island.

 

When the practical training session began, the soldiers all returned to the gymnasium to simply supervise their creatures as they ran an obstacle course. Bucky was clearly annoyed at not being allowed to use his wings to fly above every single checkpoint, as flying beasts were to refrain from any hovering. Steve was incredibly surprised Bucky even participated at all.

 

The dragon kept up with the fastest creatures, but while they were clearly giving their all, Bucky had a disinterested air and seemed to simply find the run tedious. He kept shooting glances towards Steve, who stood by the side of the track, as if warning him that he’d have to make up for making him do this later on. 

 

As noon’s chimes rung around them, colonel Phillips dismissed the soldiers and people gradually exited the gymnasium with their respective critter.

 

“The rest of the team is having lunch in the dorm,” Tony announced. “Care to join us? You can probably smuggle in your friend, Bruce is coming with me.”

 

“Ah, sorry Tony, I have other plans and I need to get a headstart,” Steve replied. 

 

Tony shrugged. “Whatever you want, Rogers. If he ever needs a mechanic, you know where to find me,” he said, biting his bottom lip. The man fell back in line with Bruce, Pietro and Wanda, leaving the blond and the dragon behind.

 

\-------------------------------

 

After picking up two trays of food for lunch, Steve started making his way back to the lodgings to lock Bucky in. Only… Bucky wouldn’t have it, firmly demanding to be brought to the library with Steve for the time he’d do research. They were already in the basement when the argument began, fortunately no one in sight.

 

“I’m not allowed to bring you there.”

 

“See if I care.”

 

“Bucky, I’ll get kicked out of there as soon as I step in. I really need you to get back to your lodgings… I’ll do some research and then come back to give you a rundown of what I’ve found.”

 

“How about you bring back the books you need and do the research where I can keep an eye on you?” Bucky snapped back.

 

The cadet sighed. “You’re being ridiculous. It’ll be easier to just search through the books on-site, I don’t even know how many I’ll have to go through.”

 

The dragon scrunched up his nose disapprovingly. “...I’ll go. On one condition.”

 

“...What do you want?”

 

“The key to my door.”

 

Steve couldn’t help but let a loud “HAH” escape. “If you think I’m letting you have that key…”

 

“Don’t get over yourself, doll. That door… I could easily melt it down. But they’d probably put me in something even less pleasant if I did. If you let me have the key, I’ll just use it to roam around when I need to get out.”

 

“You didn’t even want to untie my hands when I was back in your cave, and now you’re expecting me to just… hand you the keys to your cell.”

 

Bucky smirked. “So you  _ do _ agree that you’ve put me in a cell.”

 

Steve glared up the dragon. “I am not giving you the key.”

 

The creature softly pushed two fingers under his chin, a habit that was becoming too frequent. Only this time, anyone could walk in on them at any moment.

 

“Put a little trust in me,” Bucky whispered.

 

Steve had somehow gotten the feeling that Tony would sometimes let Bruce have the key to his lodgings, but the forest spirit seemed so much more behaved than this forsaken dragon.

 

“Bucky, if you get caught while you’re out without me around, I’ll probably be sent away. And you’ll be stuck with that mark of yours.”

 

The dragon stepped in even closer, making Steve lose his balance slightly. His crutch started slipping, but Bucky caught it in time.

 

“I won’t get caught, sweetheart.” He extended his opened hand. 

 

Steve realized that Bucky could probably easily overpower him and just take the key for himself. It was as if he wanted Steve to give it to him freely. The blond didn’t know what to make of that. He shivered, dipping his hand inside his pocket and taking out the square device.

 

He deliberated for an instant. This could be a real liability. Slowly, he placed the key in Bucky’s hand, but the grip closed not only around the item, but around his fingers as well. Bucky tugged him closer as his wings encircled Steve’s body. 

 

Bucky softly pressed his lips to Steve’s forehead and gave him a quick peck there. “Good boy,” he breathed.

 

Steve was frozen in place, more alarmed at the fact that it had felt natural than anything else. The moment ended quickly and then he wasn’t even entirely sure it happened at all. 

 

Bucky shot him his sly grin and started moving down the corridor on his own, heading for his room. 

 

Steve stood motionless for an undetermined period of time, trying to straighten out what had just occurred.

 

\-------------------------------

 

His research in the library was more exhausting than he would have guessed. For one thing, most of the books he deemed important were large leather-bound volumes, heavy to carry and very hard to move around when using a crutch.

 

As he was reading, he tried to blank out the part of his brain that always brought him back to the dragon, and to that weird moment they had just shared. Steve was starting to wonder if dragons had some sort of weird narcotic powers.

 

He read up on taming soot, its characteristics, how it was made… he tried to find reports of misuses or strange side effects, but came up short. Although he did learn a whole lot about how to create taming soot, no documents really delved into its mechanics. It seemed to combine alchemy and chemical reactions, very high level stuff that Steve didn’t fully comprehend. Few soldiers ever felt the need to go into details when it came to the very moment they had tamed their creature. 

 

The same pattern was explained in each book: the creature had to submit before the circle of soot was drawn around their neck. Steve really wished they could explain why that was so, for of course he hadn’t followed that instruction at all.

 

He examined all relevant texts he could get his hands onto until he realized that the sun had set and that he’d have to hurry to get food for supper.

 

Definitely nervous about heading back downstairs to the dragon, he really couldn’t decide if he was also glad or miffed. 

 

On his way back to the cafeteria, he spotted Pietro and Wanda speaking to a man in a lab coat down the hall. They were both deep in conversation, words being whispered. As soon as he started lingering, Wanda’s head snapped towards him and her eyes gave off that fiery glow. Steve immediately turned on his heels and continued walking down to the dining area.

 

He’d have to ask Bucky… if anyone… about witches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huhuhu Bucky has the key. What could go wrong. I mean, really. WHAT could possibly go wrong.


	5. Avoidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries to deal with the fact that Bucky has yet another trick up his sleeve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I was first going to apologize about taking a second week to write this, but not to sound flippant, I'm not sorry. I got sick, I got writer's block, Easter was coming up and since I'm the family's artist, if I don't make an Easter card for everyone, I'll probably get lynched. So I do hope you understand. On a more pleasant note: I do hope you people are all doing well.
> 
> Since Bucky keeps taking the story in places I don't want him to take it, I had to do a bit of rearranging on the grand scheme of things. Damn you, Bucky. So that also took a lot of my time. Hopefully it'll help me get the other chapters out with less pain.

As Steve poked his head inside the dragon’s lodgings, hoping beyond anything that the dragon would be present, he made the decision that he’d get out of there as soon as he could. He couldn’t tolerate being toyed around by the creature. Every single time they had a private encounter, it always ended in a singular fashion… and enough was enough.

 

Thankfully, Bucky was in.

 

The smaller man made himself walk straighter, dumping the box of food on the bed quickly. “I brought you supper. I’ll come and see you tomorrow morning,” he stated rapidly, avoiding the beast’s eyes at all cost. He quickly shuffled back towards the exit.

 

The dragon “tsked” and blocked his path with his metal arm, the door clicking back shut. “You’re in a hurry,” he replied. “How about bringing me up to speed with that research of yours.”

 

Right. He  _ did _ promise he’d keep him updated.

 

“I… read up on the soot’s composition a lot. Couldn’t find anything meaningful, except for what I already knew. I’ll move on to other documents tomorrow.”

 

Bucky stayed silent for a moment. “...For a bookworm, you don’t seem to be all that skilled at doing research.”

 

“What makes you say I’m a bookworm?” Steve was slightly annoyed at the judgement.

 

Bucky chuckled, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I am  _ trusting  _ you with this task,” he continued in a serious voice. “Just as you are  _ trusting _ me with this.” A brief flash of light reflected off of the key between Bucky’s fingers. He chucked it back into his pocket before anything came of it. “If I find out you’re lying to me, you’ll come to regret it.”

 

His dark wings circled around Steve’s frame. Now the exit was completely out of his sight, not a soothing feeling in the least. 

 

“Don’t forget about your pledge. It is still standing.”

 

Steve looked up at that, meeting the dragon’s cold eyes. He nodded, completely aware of his situation. “I know.”

 

“Good. Glad we’re on the same page,” Bucky concluded as his wings folded back behind him.

 

“Bucky, where do you plan on going if you have the key?” Steve asked tentatively, rearranging the crutch under his arm.

 

“Where I please.”

 

“I’m not entirely sure you’re weighing how much trouble you… well,  _ I  _ could get into if you were caught out of here alone. I’m not sure you understand how the military opera--”

 

“I know just fine,” Bucky cut him abruptly. Something raw flashed in his features, but it was gone before Steve could decipher it.

 

“...Okay,” Steve amended. “Just… please don’t abuse your privilege.” 

 

The dragon rolled his eyes. “Are you staying the night, doll?”

 

And that was his cue. He made for the door, ignoring the other’s taunts. He couldn’t keep acknowledging the dragon’s tricks on him (mostly because they really  _ did _ work).

 

The dragon must have realized that Steve was planning on making a quick exit, because his next words were like ice. “ _ Steve _ .”

 

And something dark and secret twisted in the blond’s guts, making him stop dead in his tracks, his hand frozen atop the door handle. Bucky never used his name. He called him pet names, sure, but never used his real name. He didn’t know if his stillness was due to his surprise or something else… surely he could move if he really wanted to. 

 

...Right?

 

A cold hand slipped along his nape. “How’re your bruises?” Bucky whispered, not unkindly.

 

Steve blushed, feeling completely helpless. “Fine,” he mumbled. Why wasn’t his hand pushing the handle?

 

“And how’s your ankle?”

 

This was getting to be too much. Steve tried to shift, to turn around, but his body didn’t respond at all. He felt as though his entire body was stuck in a heavy haze, any movement rendered arduous. This was more than being stunned, something else was at play, here.

 

“It’s… fine…” he replied choppily. “Bucky, what’s… going on. I can’t…”

 

The fingers along his nape slid down to his jaw and tilted his head sideways oh so slowly. Despite being paralyzed, the hand seemed to be able to move him at will. 

 

Bucky was scanning him attentively when his face was turned enough so he could see him. The dragon was focused, a small frown on his features. With a small nod, his hand ran its course through Steve’s hair. “Alright. Goodnight,  _ Steve _ ,” he breathed.

 

The cadet felt some sort of gust of energy run through him, his motor skills now back in an instant. He wobbled, helping himself back up straight with his crutch. He stared in disbelief at the creature, Bucky still examining him. Steve suddenly felt dread pool in the pit of his stomach. Something… new… and terribly unnerving had just broken a boundary between the two of them. He quickly looked away, struggled with the door handle in his haste and pushed himself back out of the room as fast as he could without toppling over. He didn’t wait to see Bucky’s reaction.

 

He didn’t understand what had just happened, what  _ Bucky _ had just done. Sure, the dragon had a knack for being unpredictable and making him shift gear whenever he felt like it, but this… It had felt as though he’d surrendered everything to the beast, like nothing in his body belonged to him anymore. It felt utterly terrifying.

 

He quickly put as much distance as he could between the metal door and himself, but before the door swung closed, Steve heard a few words escape. 

 

They sounded like: “...but you’ll be cold.”

 

\-------------------------------

 

In all of his haste, Steve had forgotten to even mention the witch and her strange attitude. Although Pietro and her were starting to bring up questions in Steve’s mind, there was no doubt he’d put their case on the back burner. Bigger fishes to fry and all.

 

The minute Steve reached his dorm room, he made a bee-line for the bathroom and got into the shower, not even acknowledging Clint and Stark who were eating supper on their beds. He felt dirty, as if he’d been basking in dirt. 

 

He was thankful the teamed-up soldiers had their own private bathroom per dorm. Although it meant he couldn’t take all the time in the world, it mostly meant that he’d get to be properly alone with his jumbled thoughts.

 

He cranked the hot water tap full force, relishing the warmth that seeped back into his skin. He’d felt so heatless when whatever Bucky had done had taken a hold over his body. It was strange, how the dragon seemed to be able to make him feel very warm or very cold.

 

The feeling of his bandages getting soggy was unpleasant on his skin. He breathed in and out a few times, keeping at bay a panic attack. He’d get through this, he’d figure things out. Just as he always did.

 

Breathing in, breathing out. Simple enough.

 

He stayed locked in the bathroom for half an hour before deeming himself stable enough to exit, a towel wrapped around his hips, the crutch holding him upright. He kicked himself for not taking the time to grab extra garments when he’d made for the bathroom; he really hated walking around with few clothes on in front of other people. He felt as though them seeing him half-naked would just validate what most thought of him: out of place at Shield.

 

He had had time to change his bandages (this time not relying on anyone to do so), and though they weren’t as snug as the previous ones, he was just happy not depending on someone else to look after him. 

 

Clint was now sitting around with Tony and Sam, the three of them looking in his direction as he trudged out.

 

“You okay, Rogers?” Sam questioned.

 

“Yeah. Yes.”

 

“Would you look at that, Clint’s got competition for long showers, it seems,” Stark shot from atop his bunk.

 

Clint just rolled his eyes, focusing back on Steve. “You need anything?”

 

“I’m good,” Steve smiled slightly. “Thanks.”

 

“Have you even eaten supper yet?” Sam asked.

 

And of course he hadn’t. Just as Sam finished speaking, Steve realized he’d forgotten his own take-out box in Bucky’s room. And if there was one place he wasn’t stepping back into tonight,  _ it was Bucky’s room _ .

 

“Err…”

 

“Here, if you don’t mind leftovers, I’m done eating,” Sam cut him, putting half of his grilled cheese in Steve’s hands.

 

“You sure? Thanks…”

 

And now Clint was standing right in front of him. “We’re in the same team, it seems,” he announced.

 

Right. When Steve had gotten in the dorm room the previous day, the guy had been sleeping on the couch. “Yes,” Steve grinned. “By the way, I’m really sorry that you and Nat had to go look for me during the Re--”

 

“Nat told me you had apologized enough for three lifetimes,” Clint smiled back. “No need to say sorry again, I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t feel like it.”

 

Steve nodded, feeling incredibly grateful. Aside from having an untamed dragon awaiting his demise (or something along those lines), Steve felt as though his place in the military was starting to make more sense. He had friends (plural), people who seemed genuinely concerned about his well being. It soothed his anxiousness.

 

After throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, Steve joined the three other guys to finish eating. They talked for a while, Steve keeping quiet most of the time but enjoying being a part of a group. Tony kept boasting about a secret project he was working on while in the science division, never really explaining exactly what it was that he was building and always underlining the fact that he couldn’t talk about it.

 

On his side, Sam attempted to ask Steve a lot of questions about his dragon. He was definitely curious, hints of jealousy even shining through. Steve kept his answers vague, trying to tone down Sam’s excitement. Redwing was perched on Sam’s shoulder the whole time, behaving just like an affectional budgerigar would. Steve found it uncanny that a machine could translate such life-like behaviours.

 

“About Pietro,” Steve started, considering it was fine to bring him up. “He doesn’t… mingle a lot, does he? What’s he like?”

 

“Hah!” Clint chuckled. “Yeah, well, he’s always been like this ever since I met him on our first day at the Tower. Would’ve thought taming a human-like creature would make him less of a loner, but turns out Wanda’s just as sealed off as he is. Guess it’s part of why they make a good pair, in the end.”

 

“Rocket Man’s our mysterious loner soldier,” Tony piped in.

 

“Rocket Man…?”

 

“Have you seen him run?” Tony looked at Steve, incredulously. “The guy’s broken Shield’s speed record for fastest runner three weeks in. Granted, he’s a boring recluse, but the guy’s got skills.”

 

Steve knew very well that Pietro was amongst the top-tiers, but he didn’t know about him breaking any records. He figured it would be strange for him to push the issue and ask about Wanda as well, so he just nodded.

 

They eventually moved on to less serious subjects (mostly talking about Shield’s cafeteria food) and dragged Natasha into a card game Tony had invented when she returned to the dorm. 

 

Around midnight, Pietro was still missing, but no one mentioned it. They all got into bed (Steve being the only one who’d get to sleep in the next morning because of his training dismissal) and it didn’t take long for silence to settle over their dorm room. The constant hum of the ventilation system accompanied Steve in his slumber, the chit-chat having dulled his sense of dread.

 

Sure, he’d have to face Bucky the next morning. He couldn’t just avoid the dragon, that fact was clear. He just wished they could find some middle ground where Steve knew what to expect when he met up with the bastard.

 

After a few minutes of not finding sleep despite his eyes closing on their own, he got up and grabbed one extra blanket from his trunk. He didn’t think much about why he felt so cold.

 

\-------------------------------

 

_ Don’t look him in the eyes.  _

 

_ Don’t stray from what you want to talk about.  _

 

_ Don’t let him confuse you. _

 

Steve was standing, breakfast in hand, in front of Bucky’s door. In fact, he’d been standing there for a good ten minutes, repeating this mantra to himself.

 

He hadn’t meant to sleep in, if he was being honest. When he’d woken up, he’d been alone in the dorm room and his alarm clock was flashing half-past ten. He’d managed to convince the guy behind the counter at the cafeteria to let him have two sets of breakfast (they didn’t serve it that late), and the cook must have found him very skinny because after giving him a once over, he’d dumped two full to-go boxes on the counter. 

 

And now here he was, staring down those three bold numbers embedded in the metal door as if procrastinating was going to change anything. He had to set some ground rules with the dragon, he couldn’t just keep being pushed around at Bucky’s will. 

 

He breathed in, held the air for a few seconds, and when he exhaled, he pushed the door.

 

Inside, Bucky was doing one-hand push-ups with his metal arm firmly pressed in his back, wings folded. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, nor did he stop after clearly noticing Steve enter his room.

 

Steve averted his eyes, but not before he caught a glimpse of the defined muscles sinuously lining the creature’s back, smooth and steady movements making Bucky lower himself and then rise back up with ease.

 

“I brought you breakfast,” he stated, probably louder than he intended as he placed one box on the bed.

 

Bucky did two more push-ups and then rose to his feet, approaching. “You have yours as well, are you eating here, doll?”

 

Steve made himself stand straighter, trying to use the crutch less. “I have to talk to you,” he replied bluntly.

 

Bucky gave him a side smile and grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head. The guy didn’t even look like he’d transpired from the workout. Steve momentarily thought that he was just showing off. “Talk away.”

 

And of course, now Steve didn’t really know where to begin. As Bucky sat down on the mattress to inspect his food, the blond decided that it would be wiser, this time, for him to remain standing.

 

“You did something to me. Yesterday.”

 

Bucky didn’t look at him, taking a pear out of the box.

 

“What… did you do to me?”

 

After biting once into the fruit and swallowing, Bucky looked back lazily at him. “I only did what you allowed me to do.”

 

“What does that even mean?”

 

“You allowed me control over you, I simply wanted to test it out.”

 

“I  _ allowed  _ you control? Bucky, I don’t understand what you’re saying… I never agreed to let you do any of this to me.”

 

“But you did,  _ Steve _ .”

 

And here it was again, the icy wave paralyzing Steve to the core. Steve inhaled sharply before the sensation took over, making him feel powerless, stuck in place. “Bucky, stop.”

 

Bucky slowly stood, still holding the pear in his metal hand, and started walking unhurriedly around the smaller man. A flash of a predator honing in on its prey made Steve screw his eyes shut. 

 

“You gave this to me,” Bucky rephrased, his voice low. “You gave me your name.” He halted, now behind Steve. “Guess your kind really doesn’t know much about dragons.”

 

“Let me go.”

 

The dragon ignored him, resuming his circling around the blond. “I didn’t know it would work, though. Or how much it would work,” his smirk could be heard in his tone.

 

Steve tried, with all his might, to regain some power over his body. He desperately struggled to tense his muscles, make his limbs respond, but to no avail. 

 

“You really don’t like it, do you,” Bucky said as he took another bite out of the pear, sliding his other hand across Steve’s collar bone. 

 

His inner war was taking so much of his energy that a tear escaped Steve’s left eye. “St...op…”

 

And suddenly, there wasn’t enough air in his lungs, and there wasn’t enough space around him, and nausea took over. Was Bucky doing this to him as well? Was he forcing him into this claustrophobic vacuum?

 

Bucky’s voice was quickly dulled out by the sound of his own breathing ringing in his ears. Of course,  _ now _ was such a proper time for a panic attack. He didn’t know if he was standing anymore, if the ground was above or under his feet, if it was wind against his eardrums or his own blood rushing through his arteries. 

 

Dizzy, his knees buckled involuntarily and he hit the cement floor, his crutch dropping with a “clang” next to him. If he was still under Bucky’s control, he couldn’t tell. His body felt devoid of any warmth, of any power.

 

Bucky quickly crouched in front of him, and Steve realized that his eyes were wide and that both of his hands were around his shoulder. The cadet was shaking.

 

“...hey,  _ hey _ ,” he heard Bucky’s far away voice. “Steve, come on.”

 

The dragon was too close, too wrapped around him, he needed  _ air _ . 

 

The next thing he knew, he was being tugged on the bed. He felt Bucky’s hand splayed on his chest, moving steadily upwards, and then downwards, repeating the motion that had calmed Steve back when they were in the cave. 

 

“It’s okay,” he heard the dragon coo in his ear. “You’re okay, you’re safe.”

 

Steve shut his eyes once more, the feeling in his arms returning gingerly. Tears he didn’t know were there slid down his cheeks. He hated this. The dragon kept pushing him to his limits, but also knew exactly how to mold him back to perfect peace. It felt terrifying sitting next to the creature, and yet there was clearly something assuasive about his presence. But really, how could he trust this predator at all.

 

When his breathing returned to normal and his heartbeat steadied, Bucky ran his fingers in his hair, still mumbling nonsense in his ear.

 

Steve leaned on himself, taking his head between his palms. He needed to focus.

 

“Are you feeling better?” Bucky asked. If Steve didn’t know any better, he’d say that the dragon almost sounded concerned. Of course, he was probably only making sure his mark wouldn’t be affected.

 

“You need… to explain to me what you’re doing with my name.”

 

Bucky took his hand away from his hair and ran it down his back. It felt strangely comforting. “I won’t do it again.”

 

“Please don’t.”

 

“I’m… sorry,” Bucky replied unsteadily.

 

Steve raised his head to stare straight at the creature. “You’re apologizing.”

 

Bucky glared at him. “Didn’t know what exactly it was doing to you. From my point of view, it just made you more pliant. Made it easier to stop you from slipping away all the time.”

 

“You don’t get to decide where I go, here,” Steve retorted, angered.

 

Bucky shrugged, his nonchalant behaviour back full force.

 

“Don’t do it again,” Steve repeated, highlighting how important this was to him. 

 

“I won’t,” Bucky whispered. “Didn’t know how much of yourself you gave me when you offered your name.”

 

“So it’s really just someone’s name you need for you to be able to do that to them?”

 

“If only,” Bucky smirked. “Depends on the person. Depends on how much of themselves they give to me when I get their name. Maybe it’s because of that taming soot you used, prior. Maybe it added to it.”

 

“I didn’t know giving you my  _ name _ would backfire on me so spectacularly,” Steve said, more to himself than anything. “Why didn’t you use this trick before?”

 

“Controlling a name often only translates into sending the other in some sort of trance, but they should be able to break free if they want to. It’s not that useful. On a normal basis.”

 

Steve felt weak at that, as though he should have been able to snap out of it on his own. But of course not, his body had to send him a panic attack.

 

Bucky shifted closer to the smaller man, slowly using his index’s knuckle to wipe the tears from under Steve’s eye. The blond looked down, hating the fact that he’d managed to have a second panic attack in the span of a few days. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky repeated again.

 

Steve couldn’t look at him. Although the dragon did sound earnest, he’d probably just been scared because the panic attack had made his mark hurt. Panic attacks were not painful in the way breaking bones hurt, but they did tore at the person’s inside in a way. His lungs burned, his throat was tight, he felt burned-out.

 

“I’m resuming my research today,” Steve stated, wanting to move away from the toxic subject. “I think there’s enough food in there to last you until tonight, so I’ll be back during the evening with more.”

 

“Are you positive you won’t be needing more than a crutch to get to the library?” Bucky taunted, his fingers playing with the hem of Steve’s uniform.

 

The blond shrugged away from the touch. “Yes.”

 

He staggered on his good foot to grab his fallen crutch and his food box, and made for the door. With standing as quickly came a vertiginous motion to his head, but Steve ignored it the best he could. 

 

“I’ll see you tonight,” Bucky said tightly. 

 

“Yes.”

 

\-------------------------------

 

His research carried on for most of the day, his desk in the library cluttered with alchemy books and lab reports. He learned a whole bunch about the history behind the creation of the taming soot and the team of geniuses that perfected the recipe ages ago. 

 

In the afternoon, his curiosity got the better of him and he started accumulating books on dragon lore. He felt a strong urge to get as much information as he could on these creatures, always feeling inadequate when Bucky was surprised he didn’t know facts about his kind. As if it was easy learning anything about them.

 

Despite moving away from his research on the taming soot and Bucky’s mark, he convinced himself that it was important for him to know more about dragons. Perhaps, in some way, he’d get clued in as to why the taming soot had reacted the way it had.

 

Most of the texts he read were mostly theories and assumptions, no one really wanted to cement the knowledge. Dragons were cold blooded killers for the most part, that was a hard fact that came accross multiple times. Hence why so little information was available. They weren’t even considered to be tameable, the notion barely ever mentioned. 

 

He learned that they were near extinct, that they had been hunted down throughout history and few had survived the medieval age. A few authors suggested that dragons did possess magical properties in their dna, that their powers varied from creature to creature, but that they all shared a particular skill in common: mastery over heat. Nothing about the temperature could phase them; they could bathe in lava and get out unscathed on a whim. 

 

Another fun fact about them was that they all seemed to enjoy plums a whole lot. The author delivering this notion had underlined how many times they had discovered dragon lairs with provisions of the fruit, or simply plum trees very near dragon habitats. It made Steve smirk and he stored the information for future use.

 

He never found a single mention of how giving one’s name to a dragon could be dangerous.

 

\-------------------------------

 

When the time came for him to drop off Bucky’s food, it was already ten o’clock, the sun long gone. The blond dwelled once more in front of the metal door, shuffling his feet. His last encounter hadn’t gone terribly well, although they had parted on a better note. He hesitated, still. Every time he saw Bucky, something distressing happened, regardless. 

 

In a split second, he made the decision not to open the door at all. He rapidly placed the box at the bottom of the door, in a way that was impossible to miss if someone was to open it. And then he walked away.

 

He felt a nagging at the back of his mind as he reached the elevator to exit the Tower’s underground. Of course, he’d have to see Bucky again. There wasn’t really an option here. But for one night, he really wanted to have his conscience clear of any dragon-filled doubts. Bucky had his key, he’d eventually find the food. 

 

Steve knew very well that his logic was flawed, that he’d have to deal with it at some later time. But for now, he was going to have the most boring evening ever and  _ enjoy it _ .

 

\-------------------------------

 

He spent the rest of the evening with his teammates, playing card games. Even Pietro was there this time and he even joined one game of Blackjack, although he didn’t chat around much.

 

Steve also spent a considerable amount of time changing his bandages and applying a special cream that the infirmary had given him. It was harder than it seemed, tucking the stripes of cloths properly, covering every bruise. He tried not to think about how much easier it was to have Bucky do it for him. On the upside, they were slowly starting to fade. The only ones that remained fully visible were the ones on his neck. Natasha offered to help when she spotted him struggling with the gauze that wrapped around his forehead, but he declined. He didn’t want to rely on anyone.

 

Night came around, and as he got ready for bed, he realized that for the third night in a row, he was feeling very, very cold. Unfortunately, there weren’t any extra covers, and so he’d have to do with the two he already had.

 

“Hey Sam,” he started, the other man fluffing his pillow on the top bunk. “Don’t you think it’s… cold in here? We closed all the windows, right?”

 

Sam nodded. “They didn’t tell you? The heating’s not working properly right now. They told us when we moved in here, but I guess you didn’t get the memo since you got here last.”

 

“Ah.” Steve replied. He’d started thinking that Bucky had jinxed him, so that, at least, was somewhat good news.

 

“You cold? I can give you my blanket if you want.”

 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Steve immediately replied. “You only got the one and I already took a spare.”

 

“Suit yourself,” his friend replied. 

 

Steve pulled on a pair of socks and a hoodie, and got in bed before Tony obnoxiously shouted that he was turning the lights off. They all laughed, but turned silent thereafter. 

 

Clint was the first to start snoring softly. Then Tony. Then Sam. Then Natasha. Pietro was probably asleep aswell, but as when he was awake, the guy didn’t make a sound.

 

Steve rolled on his side, pulling his knees to his chest. Crap, it was definitely very  _ very  _ cold. He didn’t quite understand how the others didn’t complain about it. He tried to let his mind wander off to other thoughts, distract himself from his freezing toes. Tossing and turning only did so much; there was definitely a draft targeting him.

 

Eventually, slumber started catching up with him, and his eyes shut. He felt like he’d been sleeping for only a few minutes when a hand was placed over his mouth.

 

_ Great _ . Nat probably wanted another late night talk with him, and he’d just managed to find sleep (not that it was a very comfortable sleep).

 

Only, when he squinted in the darkness, it wasn’t the redhead that he saw, it was  _ Bucky _ . He snapped upright, almost smashing his head on the top bunk.

 

“ _ Bucky _ ,” he hissed. “What the  _ hell _ …”

 

“You didn’t come,” the dragon said in a low voice.

 

“What??”

 

“ _ You didn’t come _ ,” he repeated on the same tone with a dose of annoyance.

 

“I… Bucky, I left your meal by your door--”

 

The creature was obviously not interested in the excuse and started crowding the smaller man, kneeling down on the bed.

 

“ _ Bucky _ , no. No, go away,” Steve angrily whispered. What would his teammates say if they caught him with the dragon here in the middle of the night?

 

“You said I’d see you tonight,” Bucky huffed. He almost sounded petulant about it.

 

“I… I know, I’m  _ sorry _ . But you’re not allowed to be in here, you need to go--”

 

Bucky cut him short by pulling the two blankets off of him, making the cold night air reach his skin. It took a fair amount of self restraint not to yelp, but he did back away from the dragon rapidly. It was a miracle that Sam’s snoring (or anyone’s) didn’t stir or halt altogether.

 

“Bucky, stop, what are you--”

 

And once again, his words died in his throat when Bucky placed a palm over the bare stripe of skin where his hoodie had rucked up. The only reason he didn’t immediately shy away from the touch was that the hand was so  _ warm _ .

 

“You’re cold,” Bucky said, less anger in his voice. 

 

The words dragged Steve back to that night in the cave where he’d been freezing and had woken up feeling oh so warm in Bucky’s arms. He shook the memory off.

 

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” he replied. He couldn’t let Bucky distract him from the real problem here: the dragon needed to get back to his room.

 

The dragon acted as though he didn’t hear him and fully scooted over atop the mattress, Steve instinctively moving away in such a manner that he almost fell off the other side. Bucky ignored it and tucked his legs underneath the covers, brushing against Steve’s woolen socks. He wordlessly smirked at the smaller man.

 

“I always sleep like that,” Steve lied.

 

“Ssh,” Bucky whispered, pulling Steve to lay back down on the bed. He used one of his wing to cover the cadet on top of the two layers of blankets.

 

Steve immediately felt the warmth he refused to admit he’d missed. 

 

“You need… to go back,” Steve weakly argued as Bucky softly pushed his head on the pillow.

 

“You and I both know that’s not going to happen.”

 

“Hmph,” Steve mumbled, the intoxicating warmth cocooning him.

 

“Go to sleep,” Bucky said.

 

“If you get caught in here, I’ll be in serious trouble.”

 

“Won’t get caught,” Bucky countered.

 

Although the heat was more than inviting, Steve kept a safe distance between his body and the dragon’s. He’d felt a tad embarrassed about the way he’d woken up the last time they’d slept like this, he didn’t wish for a repeat. 

 

Bucky, of course, noticed and decided otherwise. He pulled Steve in an embrace and tucked the blond’s head under his chin. Steve didn’t struggle. When he breathed in, he smelled something that was inherently  _ Bucky _ , but he couldn’t say what he smelled like exactly. Maybe dragons had a special odor. He gingerly placed his frozen fingers against his chest, the numbness slipping out rapidly. 

 

Steve sighed. He felt warm. The dragon’s heartbeat lulled him softly down to sleep. He knew he should feel scared or at least wary of how  _ unguarded  _ his guard was in this very moment. The dragon wasn’t tamed. And Steve was happily nestled against his larger body, a body that wouldn’t have to use much strength to break any of his bones.

 

For the second time in a short while, Steve slept better than he ever had.

  
And of course, the next morning, he woke up before anyone else because his toes were frozen again and his bed was empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snuggling Bucky! Raise your hand if you want a Bucky to snuggle with.


	6. Implicit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something about Bucky is still off. Also, some people are starting to showcase how unhappy they are that Steve has a dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! A new chapter is here. I'm rubbing my hands together, I hope you like it. 
> 
> I also have something to confess that has nothing to do with this fic. There's this guy I work with who is practically identical to pre-serum!Steve. Well, physically, at least. And his name isn't "Steve". But this week, I was having a conversation with him and I called him "Steve" instead of his name and it was mightily weird. I think he brushed it off as me mistaking him for someone else (y'know, it happens). But anyway. It's a lot less epic when I try to write it down, haha. Oh well.

When Steve went to hand Bucky’s meal that morning, he wasn’t less anxious about pushing the metal door open, but he did not dwell in the corridor for very long. The dragon was there, as usual, on his mattress, a glint in his stare as he eyed the blond.

 

“I have your breakfast,” Steve began speaking.

 

“And more,” the dragon replied as he craned his neck to look at the parcel Steve was carrying as well.

 

“Yes.”

 

Steve handed the food box to Bucky who was clearly more interested in what was still in Steve’s hands.

 

“It’s…” Steve started, trying to explain this. What exactly was  _ this _ ? A thank you gift? A I’m-sorry-I-didn’t-come-to-see-you-yesterday-evening present? He didn’t quite know. Safer to go with the facts. “I brought plantain ointment. For your mark. If you want.”

 

He had had trouble putting the damn thing together. Turned out that plantain leaves were very hard to find around the Tower, and he’d been lucky enough to find some in the kitchen’s herb garden. He wasn’t technically allowed in this section behind the cafeteria, but nobody had said anything about his presence. Fortunately, all the other ingredients he already had in his belongings and he’d prepared the ointment rather rapidly before heading out that morning. 

 

Although the dragon had never outright admitted that Steve’s remedy had worked back in the cave, it did seem to have soothed the skin from the burn.

 

Bucky tilted his head. “You brought ointment,” he repeated.

 

“Yeah...”

 

Was this a bad idea?

 

Bucky stood and marched towards the smaller man. “If you don’t want it, it’s fine, too,” Steve quickly added. But the creature ignored the comment.

 

“Are you still cold…?” he asked instead, putting the back of his fingers on Steve’s forearm. 

 

The cadet was slightly taken aback by the question and the unusually tender touch. “...No, I’m… fine.”

 

“Hm,” Bucky replied and waited a few seconds before removing his hand, seemingly satisfied by the skin’s temperature.

 

Steve was getting flustered.  _ Again _ . “Bucky… you can’t just pop in the dorms like you did last night. You know that.”

 

The dragon rolled his eyes. “You’re in no position to be giving me orders. And you said you’d drop by before heading back to your own lodgings, which you never did.”

 

Fair enough. “I know,” Steve replied. “And I’m sorry. I was just…”  _ I was just unnerved at the thought of facing you again.  _ “I wasn’t thinking right.”

 

The dragon didn’t respond, opting for looking through the variety of food Steve had brought him this time. The cadet tried to vary the kinds of edibles he brought the creature as best as he could, for Bucky never really talked about what he preferred eating. 

 

Slowly, Steve approached. “Do you want me to look at it?” he questioned tentatively. 

 

Bucky’s sharp eyes flickered towards him, and then at the parcel in his hands.

 

“I won’t if you’re not willing,” Steve rose his hands. “Just thought it’d be simpler for you since there’s no mirror in here and all…”

 

The dragon considered for some time, and then nodded without looking at the blond.

 

“Okay,” the soldier replied. Now, how was he going to do this.

 

He kneeled in front of the dragon, on the bed, unwrapping the jar from the brown paper. He hadn’t really wanted anyone to question him carrying it around, even if he could’ve said it was for his own injuries. Better safe than sorry.

 

Bucky allowed him to tug at the bandage around his neck all the while keeping a close watch over him. It was a bit uncanny how Steve never got accustomed to being scrutinized by the beast. 

 

“Is the food I’m bringing you okay?” Steve asked, dying to smother the silence.

 

“S’fine.”

 

“Okay.”

 

And here was the silence again. Damn it.

 

He worked as quickly as he could, but slowed down when his digits came into contact with the dragon’s skin. Unlike the last time, the skin was less raw, proof of the medicine’s good effects. The mark, underneath, remained. Its tendrils had receded somewhat, most probably in tandem with Steve’s healing bruises. 

 

He could feel Bucky’s breathing on his wrists and forearms as he applied the ointment, warm air giving him goosebumps. He was so absorbed in the task that he didn’t notice right away when Bucky pulled at his hands.

 

“That’ll do,” the dragon stated.

 

Trying to snap out of his daydream state, Steve used clean linens he’d packaged with the jar to wrap the mark back up.

 

They didn’t talk about the previous night for the remainder of the time Steve stayed before he headed out to the library.

 

\-------------------------------

 

The following days were, in Steve’s opinion, less agitated. They’d managed to settle in a routine that suited the both of them, and Steve never avoided giving Bucky’s meals in-hand. On his side, after much deliberation with the cadet, Bucky hadn’t snuck back in the dormitories afterwards. Sure, the heating hadn’t been fixed and Steve was still freezing every single night, but sleeping with extra layers of clothing helped. 

 

Steve still had a bad feeling about Pietro and Wanda, but they weren’t outright hostile towards him. He just felt as though they knew more about his situation than they let on. Otherwise, life with his team was going smoothly. Tony definitely lived up to his father’s name, bringing back gadgets he had developed in his spare time to the dorms, showing them off. 

 

Sam was still constantly pestering Steve with questions about the dragon, no longer trying to hide how envious he was. How high could he fly? Did he breathe fire? Was he obsessed over gold? Steve wished he could tell him how wrong he was to be envious of him, but all he could do was temper down his excitement by telling him how boring the dragon was (which was, in all honesty, a real chore). It was by doing so that Steve realized that Bucky inspired many different things in him, but uninteresting definitely wasn’t on the list. For some reason, he tried not to think about this for too long.

 

Natasha didn’t hide her displeasure with Steve spending so much time in the library or with the dragon, but she was, in Steve’s defense, often training one-on-one with Clint. Which Steve used as conversation stoppers whenever Natasha was broaching the subject of Bucky. In truth, Steve enjoyed Clint’s company and thought the two of them were a good match. Although Nat repeatedly dismissed the idea of them being an item.

 

His bruises were finally starting to fade, most of them not requiring bandages anymore. He still wore a scarf around his neck whenever uniforms weren’t required, not wanting to show off the blueish marks slowly leaving his skin there. His ankle was healing as well, and after a week, he was even able to only walk around with a linen wrapped around it and no crutches. He hadn’t felt this free in a very long time.

 

The cadet would uphold his research everyday, only interrupting it when he and Bucky had to attend mythical creature training. The notebook he kept on the dragon was filling up tremendously slowly, reports being written with mere physical traits that anyone with eyes could notice on the dragon. Wings. Metal arm. Horns. He mentioned his strength as well, but never went into much details.

 

Most of the creatures’ training involved having them do various physical activities so the cadets (and probably Shield as well) could document their limits in strength and stamina. Most creatures had some magical properties, but they’d been told that they weren’t to test these waters until colonel Phillips deemed them ready. Bucky would ace every single physical test, and Steve had to privately ask him to tone his skills down so that they didn’t bring too much attention to themselves. 

 

The fact that Bucky had absolutely no trouble lifting five times his weight or running faster than the nekomata with ease was something that left Steve feeling helpless. People didn’t speak to him much, but he knew their curious stares translated incomprehension as to how he managed to tame such a capable being. How did scrawny, fragile Rogers manage to subdue a beast that could probably single handedly defeat every single creature on the Tower’s grounds?

 

Agent Carter had showed up at one of their sessions to demonstrate her chimera’s powers. The beast had cleared the obstacle course in a record time, using its raw strength to jump over the four meter high wooden ladder. Steve had been impressed, while Bucky had remained poised.

 

Steve took the trainings as opportunities to examine how the other masters and their creatures interacted. He often saw Bruce and Tony hang around each other on the training grounds, but their relationship seemed to be exceptionally different from everyone else’s. He’d learned, in fact, that prior to taming Bruce, Tony had had a long and meaningful conversation with him. Bruce had agreed to the taming because he had been incredibly curious about these laboratories Tony kept talking about. Bruce wasn’t all that talented when it came to physical training (although Tony debated that he could snap a sequoia in half if he got mad enough), but he was mightily brilliant with alchemy and biology. He even helped out Tony whenever he was working in the science division.

 

As for the others, some had more trouble at keeping their creatures in check, but nothing alarming. One girl kept struggling with her kappa going off course during obstacle races, the creature valiantly refilling its water reserve in the water tanks whenever he got the chance. The guy with the stone golem couldn’t participate in many activities for his creature was too heavy for most of the obstacle structures and altogether too slow with its movements. Not to mention that communication with the golem was a tedious task, the mountain of a beast being quite dumb.

 

There was also a group of other soldiers that stuck together because all five of them had tamed hellhounds and they’d been teamed up by Shield, reminding Steve of a pack of wolves. They’d been dubbed the Strike Team, and most cadets tended not to get in their way. Brock Rumlow was their unspoken leader, his hound clearly larger and more agile than the others’. The canines were all black, particles of smoke dancing around their lean figures whenever they moved. They looked like ominous larger-than-life dogs.

 

Steve tried not to pay too much attention to them, but it was most difficult. They had a habit of intentionally intimidating weaker cadets or simply soldiers with weaker creatures, revelling in their display of strength. It sickened Steve, even though he hadn’t been their target as of yet.

 

\-------------------------------

 

There were two days left until Steve was to resume physical training with the others when a Shield agent intercepted Steve heading out of the Tower. It was late at night, he’d just dropped off Bucky’s meal in his lodgings.

 

“Pardon?” He asked the man who said his name was Phil Coulson.

 

“You’ve been summoned, Mr. Rogers. On the twenty-fifth floor.”

 

“Right now?” It was nearing midnight, and all Steve wanted was to take a shower and crash on his bed.

 

“I’m afraid so,” the man replied, his polite smile never leaving his face.

 

“Is this… Is it colonel Fury who is asking for me?”

 

Although the agent didn’t deny it, his smile grew slightly wider. “Please report to the twenty-fifth, Mr. Rogers. As soon as possible.” He then nodded curtly and walked down the hall.

 

If Nick Fury was asking for him this late at night, it couldn’t be to give him good news. As he made his way to the elevator, Steve started making a mental list of all the potential reasons he could be summoned. Was it about the amount of time he was spending in the library? Was it about the fact that his reports to colonel Phillips were too meager, lacked information? Or was it that Bucky’d been caught outside of his lodgings in a place he wasn’t supposed to be?

 

A cold sweat ran over the blond’s body. If Bucky’d been caught… or only  _ seen _ wandering around… this could be disastrous. What if they asked him for the key to Bucky’s room? But before any solid plan formed in his mind, the elevator’s doors were sliding open for him to exit on the twenty-fifth floor. He’d been so caught up in his inner turmoil that he hadn’t even realized that he’d been on the elevator ride.

 

“Rogers,” Nick Fury’s gravely voice rang. He was sitting alone at the long conference table.

 

The scene oddly mirrored the first time Steve had set foot on this floor, except that this time, Bucky wasn’t at his back.

 

“Glad you could make it,” the austere man continued. “Please have a seat.”

 

Steve did his utmost best at limiting unnecessary movements, betraying how nervous he was being the last thing he wanted. He pulled a chair and sat in front of his superior. The other man looked at him with his uncovered eye, seemingly searching for something.

 

“We need to talk. About your dragon.”

 

_ Great. Just fucking great. _

 

“I’m sure that it will not come as a surprise to you that Shield’s been keeping a close eye on you and your creature. It’s been awhile since the agency’s hosted something so… atypical.”

 

Steve remained quiet, bracing himself for some horrible news.

 

Fury then looked away from the smaller man to run a hand over some documents placed on the table. Steve hadn’t even noticed they were there. “We’ve also been doing our own research,” the man continued. “But there is one thing we cannot quite… figure out.”

 

The blond’s brow furrowed.

 

“And it would make it far easier for us if you could tell us… exactly  _ how _ you came to cross this dragon’s path.”

 

The question puzzled the cadet. Hadn’t it been clear? He hadn’t really lied about the encounter when he’d spoken to agent Carter on the ride back. He’d just omitted telling her details about his incarceration in the cave and the entire deal he’d made with Bucky.

 

“I have already told agent Carter about how I strayed in the forest during the first night…”

 

“Yes. And then you were attacked and you…  _ somehow _ … managed to make a soot collar on the damn thing. That’s what her report said.”

 

Steve nodded, anxiousness whistling inside him like a kettle.

 

“Your dragon can fly, can he not?”

 

“I… believe he can.”

 

“But you’ve never actually  _ seen _ him fly.”

 

“I haven’t, sir.”

 

A pause. Steve was getting more and more confused at the questions.

 

“You haven’t seen him fly once, whether it was on the island or here at the Tower?”

 

“No, sir, I haven’t.”

 

The colonel seemed to momentarily think something through before proceeding. “Although we don’t have much data on the matter, there are no records of dragons flying long distances. And the closest solid land there is to the island is seventy-five miles away.”

 

“I… am sorry, sir. I just don’t quite understand what you are asking me.”

 

Fury’s mouth became a tight line. “You swear that the dragon that attacked you came from the  _ forest _ .”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

The colonel sighed and rubbed his hand over his forehead. “What I’m about to tell you needs to remain confidential, Rogers. Is that clear?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“You cannot, under any circumstances, speak of this matter to anyone, not even the people on your team, is that understood?”

 

“I understand.”

 

The tall man took a moment to look down upon the documents once more, and then levelled his gaze to meet Steve’s head on. “There was never supposed to be a dragon on this island.”

 

Steve’s eyebrows rose. “What?”

 

“The island belongs to Shield. It’s always been an extension of our training grounds, a larger, more immersive way of testing our recruits’ abilities.”

 

Steve nodded slowly, but he already knew about this. Everybody knew.

 

“Although we make it seem like uncharted territory, Shield keeps a close eye on the mythical creatures that inhabit it. We routinely report on the population of each type of creature, where they reside on the island and their precise numbers. We do this mainly to make sure a superior kind of beast doesn’t altogether tilt the ecosystem and become the dominant species. It wouldn’t suit our needs to have one kind of creature to test our soldiers.”

 

The young cadet was taken aback by the information, but it did make a lot of sense. Shield liked to be in control of anything it touched, it was only logical for them to extend that to the island as well, no matter how far from the Tower.

 

“We’ve been in control of this island for the past forty years,” Nick Fury continued. “And there has never been a dragon sighting. Not once.”

 

Steve stared blankly ahead. What could he say? This was all news to him.

 

“So I ask again,” his superior said, leaning his elbows on the table and crossing his fingers. “Is there anything you’d like to disclose about where exactly your dragon comes from?”

 

“Sir, I haven’t lied. From what I can tell, the dragon lived in the cave near where agent Carter found me, perhaps he’s been hiding in there--”

 

“We are very well aware of this cave and its underground paths. It’s always been home to the wendigo population of the island.”

 

Steve avoided mentioning that he hadn’t seen a single wendigo during his time down there.

 

“Then… Sir, I really do not know anything about my dragon being from anywhere else than from the island.”

 

The meeting with Fury carried on for another thirty minutes where the colonel asked him more questions about the encounter. Was the dragon alone when he found Steve? Was there anything strange that happened to Steve aside from encountering the dragon during the Reaping? Although Steve was relieved that none of the interrogation questioned the actual taming, all of this new information made Steve incredibly curious. 

 

Was Bucky hiding things from him? Important things? How could the higher ups at Shield not detect a dragon after owning the island for so long? 

 

By the time Steve was dismissed, his head was buzzing. It was late, he was tired… he was probably better off sleeping it off and asking questions the following morning. 

 

He made his way out of the Tower, a janitor mopping the Tower’s entrance hall giving him a weird look as he passed the doors. He probably wasn’t used to having people walk around the premises past one in the morning. 

 

The cold night air hit his face first and he cursed his previous decision at not bringing a vest with him. He tugged his scarf lower so that it would cover him up more, but it did little to help. Damn that cold.

 

Although he walked the path between the dorms and the Tower every single day, he couldn’t help but notice how eerie the atmosphere was at night. Many of the lampposts were off, probably in need of a change of light bulb, and the quietness was oppressing. It contrasted strongly with how lively the training grounds were by day, how there were always recruits running in formation with their supervisor bellowing after them.

 

As if on cue, Steve heard voices near the patch of trees he was approaching. A small group of people were gathered there, and Steve got suddenly hit with the strong smell of tobacco, which was strictly forbidden on the Tower’s grounds. The cadet tried to circle away from them, but it was already too late to try to avoid their attention.

 

“Hey, it’s him! It’s the little guy,” one of them shouted.

 

“Who’re you calling ‘little’ you dimwit,” Steve replied under his breath, determined at upholding his stride.

 

“Oh, it’s the  _ dragon tamer _ ,” a second guy called.

 

Great. Just great. Now, Steve was being intercepted by the Strike team who had a sudden strong interest towards him. There was also definitely the smell of alcohol under all that smoke odor. 

 

“What’s your hurry, dragon tamer?” 

 

Steve ignored them, but they were now closing in on him and were encircling him. He had to stop walking to prevent walking straight into the tallest of them. Who just happened to be Brock Rumlow. 

 

The blond sighed and glared up at him. He wouldn’t show weakness to that asshole.

 

“Where’s your dragon, buddy?” Rumlow spoke with a drawl. 

 

“I’m going to the dorms. Move,” Steve said, levelled. 

 

“Aww, don’t be like that! We just really want to see that creature you’ve tamed. Half the people here say that you bribed someone to tame it for you.”

 

Steve huffed and tried to resume walking forward, but Rumlow placed an implacable hand on his shoulder.

 

“Let me through,” Steve replied, staring daggers.

 

“Or what, you’re going to sneeze on me to death?” His breath was disgustingly filled with the smell of alcohol. “Gonna hav’ta call onto that dragon of yours ‘cause you can’t get in bed?”

 

Steve scowled and shoved his shoulder out of the taller man’s grasp. Now the other four goons were closing in on him.

 

“Get lost, all of you. I just want to get to the dorms.” Huh, would you look at that. It looked like being tired made him even more reckless than usual.

 

They all snickered, and one of the guys at his back shoved him forward, making him stagger right into Rumlow.

 

“Mustn’t be all that hard to tame a dragon if someone like you managed it,” Rumlow taunted. “How did Shield even let you in on the program in the first place?”

 

“Told ya, he paid his way in, and he paid someone to get that creature. No other way he could’ve managed it,” the guy at his left spat.

 

“Pff, what a joke. Bet he’ll be the first one to die when he gets sent on a real mission,” another jibed. 

 

“Where’s your dragon, dragon tamer?  _ Where’s your dragon? _ ” Rumlow singsonged. He shoved the smaller man backwards, and Steve landed on the guy behind him.

 

In a cruel twist of fate, they all started tossing him back and forth as if he was a defecting pendulum. Steve yelled at them to stop, his flailing ignored. After a few shoves, Rumlow seemed to tire of the twisted game and pushed him to the ground. Steve slipped on his right side as the five much taller men towered over him.

 

“What are you without your dragon, hm?” Rumlow said. “Can’t even stand on your own without any help.”

 

He kicked in his direction, purposefully avoiding hitting any parts of Steve, but impelling a great deal of gravel towards the blond’s face. Steve shut his eyes and gathered his knees against his stomach. The four other goons started imitating their leader and they were soon all kicking around around him, small rocks hitting his skin. He tried to minimize his breathing to prevent inhaling dust, but a kick to the ribs made him gasp out. To be fair, the goon that hit him probably did so by mistake, their intention here was clearly to intimidate him. If Steve actually got injured and was able to prove that a fellow recruit was responsible, the consequences could be very severe for them.

 

Rumlow sneered down at him. “Come on, let’s get going,” he called to his team in a bored voice. “The dragon tamer’s not worth our time.”

 

The sound of beer bottles clinking together rang, but unfortunately Steve opened his eyes too late to avoid one of the guys emptying half of a bottle of beer on him. 

 

Steve angrily flailed to get up, dizzily getting his wits back together, but the five guys were already steadily making their way back to the dorm.

 

What a way to end this night. Now he was drenched, smelled like a piss pot and had gravel rocks and dust all over himself. Plus, his stomach was very tender from that kick.

 

When Steve was stable enough, he reached the dorm building. He really hoped that all of his teammates were asleep and that he wouldn’t have to explain his state to anybody. Especially Nat.

 

As he pushed open the front doors of the building, the doors budged slightly forward but then stuck. Confused, Steve tried pushing them again, but to no avail. With a glimpse through the vertical window, Steve’s expression crumbled. Rumlow’s team had jammed what looked like brooms through the door’s handles, locking them from the inside. Baffled, he swung bodily against the doors, but he was clearly too tired, too weak and too little to make a difference.

 

He stepped back from the entrance, glaring up at the building. There was no way he could reach the fourth floor by scaling the building. He sighed. Just how many times could the universe get off by reminding him of how useless his body was?

 

He hugged his shoulders as a stronger draft blew around him. Fuck. If he got sick on top of everything, he might as well just give up.

 

Circling around the building, he tried vainly to open the maintenance door, but as expected, it was locked. 

 

Sleep was catching up with him, making him drowsy, and he was starting to lose the few ounces of spirit left in him. He even felt tears stinging at his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Frustrated and uncomfortable, he let himself flop down on the ground in front of the main entrance. This was definitely a terrible night.

 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a warm hand pressed against his left shoulder blade. He quickly shot upward, spinning around to see who the newcomer was.

 

“ _ BUCKY? _ ”

 

The dragon stood before him, gauging the situation silently.

 

“Bucky, the fuck are you doing here?” Steve asked as he managed to stand up.

 

“Why are you… what’s that on you?” Bucky asked in turn, completely ignoring Steve’s remark.

 

“It’s… I got… It’s just gravel. Look, we talked about this, you can’t be at the dorms, the mythical creatures aren’t--”

 

“I’m not  _ in  _ the dorms,” Bucky huffed out, crowding Steve to take a closer look at his face. 

 

Steve looked away. He hated the fact that the dragon’s presence had calmed his nerves, even though his sudden appearance had made him jumped.

 

“Why are you covered in dirt and… what’s that smelly stuff on you?” the dragon questioned, inhaling close to Steve’s ear, which made him hunch his shoulders.

 

“I ran into unpleasant people,” Steve mumbled.

 

A thumb pressed against his bottom lip and then slipped off. “You’re bleeding,” Bucky stated quietly.

 

Steve hadn’t even realized he’d split his lip in the commotion. Frankly, this was the least of his problems right now.

 

“People did this to you?”

 

“Yes… Well, I could’ve avoided walking by them, I just didn’t--”

 

“ _ Soldiers _ did this to you,” Bucky rephrased, something dark in his voice.

 

Steve sighed. “Look, I just want to get cleaned up and go to bed. I just… I can’t get in,” he motioned towards the blocked doors. “D’you think you could… y’know. Bust the doors opened?”

 

“Why are you locked out?”

 

“Guess they... wanted to play a prank on me,” Steve replied.

 

“So the people who did this to you are  _ in there _ ?”

 

“Well yeah, all recruits sleep in the dorm building… could you try to get the doors opened? I really don’t feel like going to get someone at the Tower for this…”

 

“No.” Bucky firmly said.

 

“Huh?”

 

“The people who did this to you are in there. I’m not letting you go in.”

 

Great. Steve should’ve figured Bucky’d react this way, what with being overly protective of the mark and all.

 

“It’s not like I’m gonna go sleep in the same room as them, Bucky.”

 

The dragon shook his head. “No.”

 

Out of depth, the cadet rubbed his tired eyes. Why was he in this situation.

 

“Please. I’m too tired to argue. Please just get the door opened.”

 

For a moment, Bucky seemed to hesitate, but he didn’t walk towards the entrance. Instead, he moved right into Steve’s space once more and rapidly gathered him in his arms, as he’d done in the cave.

 

“Wha--, come on, not this again. Put me down.”

 

“You said you were tired.” Is all that the dragon commented, and he started walking away from the dormitories. 

 

Quickly steadying himself by holding onto Bucky’s metal shoulder, Steve barely had enough energy to complain. “You’re… where’re you taking me?”

 

Bucky remained silent and held him tighter, securing Steve’s smaller body against his. If someone… if  _ anyone at all _ saw this, Steve would die of embarrassment. Bucky’s hold on him was warm and secure, and Steve tried not to think about how easy it would be for him to close his eyes right away and fall into slumber.

 

The dragon carried him back to the Tower (where the halls were now thankfully empty) and got them both down to the basement level where Bucky’s lodgings were located. It wasn’t that bad, in Steve’s mind, to spend one night in there if it meant that he wouldn’t have to argue. His energy was running out, Bucky probably noticed how uncharacteristically docile he was being, because something soft appeared on his features.

 

However, the dragon didn’t stop to enter his room, but walked right past it. Steve was about to tell him so when he halted in front of another door down the cement hallway.

 

“Why are you taking me here?”

 

Bucky didn’t answer, producing a small metallic shaft. He used it to expertly fiddle with the lock, and sooner than later, the door was swinging open to reveal a room that resembled Bucky’s, except that it was much larger in size. At its center, a circular pool took up most of the space.

 

“What is this?” Steve asked tentatively as they entered.

 

Bucky placed him back on his feet and made sure the door clicked back shut behind them.

 

“You wanted to get cleaned up before going to sleep,” he stated simply.

 

“Well…”

 

“Get undressed. You can wash in the pool.”

 

Steve stared back at the dragon. “I would’ve made with the dorm’s shower.”

 

“You’re not heading back there.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “ _ Fine _ . Wait for me outside, I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

 

With a grin, Bucky crossed his arms in front of him and casually walked by the blond to sit down near the pool. His wings stretched lazily by his side, and he tilted his head towards the smaller man.

 

“You don’t have to stay while I wash,” Steve said, failing to hide a nervous note.

 

“You shy, doll? S’not anything I haven’t seen before.”

 

Steve turned bright red. “You asshole,” he mumbled. 

 

Turning his back to the winged man, he clumsily pulled his shirt over his head and then reached to remove his trousers, making his movements as nonchalant as he could. He could feel Bucky’s toothy smile even without watching him. Lastly, he pulled his briefs down. 

 

He most definitely did not look towards Bucky as he trudged towards the pool, stepping down on the first step. The dragon would just not stop watching him, scanning his every movement. Unfortunately, the water was downright freezing and he quickly pulled his toes out as soon as his skin registered the temperature.

 

“Shit,” he breathed out. “Water’s cold.”

 

Still not looking at the creature, he attempted to dip his right foot back in the water, but this was just not happening. Not only was he still feeling chilly from the wind outside, he wasn’t going to suffer through a frigid bath just because Bucky asked him to.

 

“I can’t wash myself in there, I’ll catch pneumonia or something,” the cadet hastily explained as he started making his way back to the pile of clothes he had left on the cement floor.

 

“Wait,” Bucky said from behind him. The dragon had moved silently and was now standing right beside him. Steve tried to cover himself subtly, not meeting the other’s eyes. “Just wait.”

 

Slowly, Bucky tugged his upper garment over his head, exposing his chest. 

 

“What are you doing?” Steve was tensing up, their proximity more than felt. He folded his arms around himself, feeling the goosebumps on his skin.

 

Following suit, the dragon started unfastening his trousers and swiftly pulled them down, and this time there was no way Steve’s skin wasn’t bright red down to his chest. He quickly looked away from the naked body that was next to his, holding his own arms against his ribs and hunching his shoulders. Bucky didn’t seem bothered in the least at being clothes-less in front of another person. Which, in truth, wasn’t a surprise, seeing how his body was very much fit. There was nothing to be ashamed of when someone was built like he was, and Steve’s self-consciousness tripled over as he caught a glimpse of his own bony calves. 

 

This was probably why Bucky always looked at him with a strange grin, wondering how someone with a gaunt body like his could even pretend to belong in the military.

 

A hundred things passed through Steve’s mind, but none of them made it past his lips. What was Bucky doing, undressing like that?

 

It took a moment for Steve to realize that Bucky had stepped in the water, because what made him look up was the sudden hissing sound that whistled around the room, gushes of steam rising rapidly. 

 

“What…?” Steve began, not understanding in the least what was happening.

 

After examining his surroundings, he noticed that the dragon was in fact responsible for the sudden change. The more he lowered himself in the pool, the more steam rose, the hissing noise doubling over. It sounded exactly like when one would shove a heated pan under cold tap water.

 

“Come,” Bucky said, once the water had reached his thorax. The steam had thickened around them, making it almost hard to see.

 

Steve must’ve looked like a deer caught in the headlights, his feet frozen in place and using every ounce of coherence to let out a “no.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “The water’s fine, now.  _ Come _ .”

 

Steve was definitely  _ not  _ bathing naked with an equally naked Bucky at arm’s length. This was a tremendously bad idea, what with his body delightfully betraying him at the worst of times on a good day. 

 

Seeing as the cadet wasn’t budging, Bucky glowered. “Are you really going to make me come over and get you?”

 

The question snapped Steve back to himself, and he gingerly made his way to the edge of the pool. If Bucky stayed at the center, he’d be able to just sit on the first step and bathe without having him too near. Plus, the steam was making things hazy around them. He carefully tested the water once more, and delightfully found it very warm. 

 

He hastily sat down on the first step, and the heat was so much welcomed that he ventured and sat on the second so that the water reached his collarbone. He folded his knees slightly, trying to keep the few remnants of modesty Bucky was letting him have. It was hard to believe that Bucky could control the temperature of the water simply by willing his body to do so. Hell, it had barely taken him a few seconds to turn the place in some sort of hot tub.

 

What with trying not to stare at the dragon, it was in fact very hard not to notice the scarred flesh that framed the edge of the metal arm. The scars seemed old, yet angrily slashed all around his shoulder. They would doubtfully ever fade out.

 

“They’re not using the place right now,” Bucky spoke. “It’s probably made to host a water creature like a kelpie.”

 

Steve nodded, letting the warmth engulf him. His muscles were sore, but the water was washing away the dirt and the sticky beer that clung to his skin. He wanted to ask Bucky about the island, about what Fury had told him, but he didn’t quite know how to approach the topic. His pact with the dragon was a fragile thing, he didn’t really want to make him wary. Not right now, anyway.

 

The thought slip out of his mind as Bucky’s form appeared in his field of vision.

 

“Don’t move,” he said in a low voice. 

 

And how could he. Rooted on the spot, Steve eyes stayed glued on a tile at the edge of the pool. 

 

Bucky cupped water in his hands and deliberately dropped the liquid on the blond’s head. Steve couldn’t avoid the tiniest of flinch his body made, but the dragon didn’t mention it. The creature proceeded to making sure Steve’s entire head was damp before grabbing a bottle of Shield-issued shampoo. Steve wondered, briefly, where he’d gotten such a thing. 

 

The dragon was oddly gentle as he washed Steve’s hair, making sure no soap or water got in his face. He mostly used his flesh hand to lave Steve’s blond strands, probably fearing that the plating of his metal one would catch and pull on the hair. While doing so, Steve reflected on how strange the situation was, what with him tense and anxious, sitting in a pool while a dragon was carefully making sure he was clean. The soft combing movements on his head made him relax slightly, but it was most likely also due to his exhaustion. 

 

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

 

It pained him to admit that for the time being, he felt good. What Bucky was doing right now, it made him feel somewhat important. Something ugly inside him stirred when he tried to rationalize that Bucky was only taking care of him because of the mark. Without it, he’d be just… easy prey for simple fun. He wasn’t, in truth, all that important to Bucky if he didn’t run the risk of endangering him. He simultaneously realized that he’d never been this intimate with anybody else before, the thought making his heart clench. He couldn’t get attached to Bucky. If it wasn’t for the unfortunate situation, none of this would be happening right now. But that hand…

 

“Ssh,” he heard Bucky breathe.

 

The dragon was pulling him in against his chest, and Steve realized that he was trembling. The wings encircled him, but this time they felt more reassuring than before. Steve didn’t struggle.

 

Bucky made sure all the suds were rinsed off of his head, and he stayed with Steve in the water. The younger man wasn’t having a panic attack, but he was feeling overwhelmed. He didn’t quite know if having Bucky’s body pressed against his helped or not. The dragon’s skin was warm and firm.

 

He started wondering exactly what would happen when he’d find a way to rid Bucky of the mark. It was unlikely that he’d stay at the Tower. And what would happen then? If he wasn’t dismissed from the program for having lost his creature, then what exactly made him worthy of being in the team he’d been placed in? All those people bewildered at him for taming a dragon… they had a every right to be. 

 

His shoulders slumped, and Bucky pulled him closer. Steve was grateful that the dragon was mindful not press his lower body against Steve.

 

“Whatever you’re thinking about, stop,” Bucky said. And was that uncertainty in his voice, Steve was hearing?

 

Steve didn’t answer, not trusting his voice right now.

 

After a few moments, he slowly shuffled out of Bucky’s arms and made his way back to his clothes. The creature caught up to him and wrapped a towel around his body. There was already one looped around Bucky’s hips. Steve figured that he’d been using this room as his own private bathroom for some time, now. It would explain why the place was so well equipped. 

 

Bucky didn’t leave Steve time to get dressed.

 

“These are dirty,” he waved towards the shirt and pants. 

 

“These are the only clothes I have right now,” Steve retorted, but it lacked biting. 

 

Bucky pondered for a moment. “Wear this,” he responded, throwing his own top towards Steve.

 

The cadet accepted to do so, the sleeveless garment dropping down to his mid-thighs. It almost looked like he was wearing a dress.

 

He didn’t have much time to feel embarrassed, because Bucky picked him right off the ground once more. He figured that putting a fight, like all the other times, was useless, and he grudgingly let the dragon carry him back to his own lodgings.

 

“Sleep,” Bucky instructed curtly, motioning towards the mattress. 

 

It was a tremendously bad idea, but what other choice was there? Steve slid on the opposite side of the mattress and tentatively laid his head down. There were no bed sheets, blanket or pillow in Bucky’s room, and Steve felt a pang of guilt at that.

 

Bucky didn’t wait for the smaller man to settle fully before laying down next to him and using a wing as a blanket for Steve. The dragon was like a furnace, and it was very hard for Steve not to hazily drift off to sleep. He felt Bucky moving him around so they’d fit together more comfortably, the dragon even lifting his head and placing his arm underneath it so as to make a makeshift pillow. 

 

Steve didn’t know if he should feel guilty, troubled or downright frightened anymore. Confusion roamed through his mind, all the while craving the attention that Bucky gave him. He’d never admit this, though. 

 

Bucky’s left arm snaked around his waist and rested on his stomach. If Steve had a lover, he’d figure this would be the most comfortable way to sleep in the same bed as them. The thought uneased him. The metal fingers slowly started making soothing circles, moving up to his sternum. Why was this so pleasant.

 

Slumber was creeping in on the cadet. He huddled backwards to feel more of Bucky’s chest against his back, blaming the movement on his exhausted mind. 

  
He’d most likely never admit that Bucky’s wing wrapped around his small body felt like a loving shield to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may or may not realize it, but I did everything I could so that it wouldn't seem as though Bucky had peed in the pool to make it warmer. When I first wrote the scene, I reread it and realized that it could sound as though Bucky'd taken a dip, pissed, and then asked Steve to get in "'cause now it was warmer". Somebody help me, I really had a fit of laughter because that is the most unsexy thing that could've happened. I really, REALLY hope nobody thought about Bucky peeing in a pool while reading this.


	7. Equivalent Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve finally finds something useful for his research.  
> Also featuring Bucky being Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So yes, I know I've taken longer than usual, but it's for a good cause. Well, maybe not to you, haha. I'm planning a trip to NYC this summer and it's taking a bit of my free time that I normally use to write. Also, I've never fully realized that the longer a fic gets, the harder it is to keep up? I'm just scared I've written something in previous chapters and that I'll contradict myself at some point. If that happens, I hope you can let me know.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

 

“Huh?” Steve rose his head, frowning.

 

“I said that you can talk to me. If you want,” Tony repeated, his usual light and mirthful tone absent. “How long are you planning on staring at your oatmeal?”

 

“Oh,” Steve simply replied, trying to clear the fog from his mind. “Thanks. Sorry ‘bout that.”

 

When he’d woken up in Bucky’s bed, he’d slipped out of the lodgings as casually as he could, the dragon looking at him strangely, but not preventing him from leaving. He had gone to get changed (now that the dorm’s doors were openable) and had gotten food for the dragon. However, when he’d made it back to the Tower’s basement, Bucky was nowhere to be seen. He had left the box of food by the bed and left, feeling dejected. He shouldn’t have felt this way, but he couldn’t help it.

 

Steve also realized he’d completely forgotten to ask him about the entire ordeal Fury had brought up. Was Bucky a new island resident when they’d met? It nudged at his mind, constantly going in circles and back without a clue. Would Bucky react the same way about this question as when Steve mentioned his metal arm? Maybe it was safer not to ask...

 

And now here he was, having breakfast with Tony in the cafeteria. 

 

“You don’t look too great this morning. Something the matter?”

 

“No!” Steve replied, too fast. “I mean, I just didn’t sleep all that well,” he lied. He’d slept pretty much soundlessly, until he’d jerked awake and realized he’d spent the entire night in Bucky’s arms. Normal people didn’t sleep in the same bed as their creature. Normal people most definitely didn’t find comfort in sleeping pressed against a dragon. What the hell was wrong with him. A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered how comfortable he’d been, but he tried to shake it out of his thoughts.

 

“I bet,” the other man snorted. “D’you get lucky, or what?”

 

“Huh?” Steve’s eyes widened.

 

“You didn’t come in the dorms last night. I just figured you eloped with someone, somewhere,” Tony teased.

 

“Oh… Oh no, no. I just… fell asleep in the library. Sleeping with my head on the desk wasn’t as comfortable as I thought it’d be,” Steve forced out a laugh, but it fell flat to his ears.

 

The engineer pinched his lips. “You know, Nat’s worried about you. I’m technically not supposed to tell you that, but she is. She keeps saying that you haven’t been the same since the Reaping.”

 

“Nat likes to worry about me too much. I’m fine, I swear.”

 

At that moment, the cafeteria’s double doors sprang open and clattered against the wall, the Strike team making their tumultuous entrance. They sure as hell liked to make everyone aware of their presence. Moreover, they now had their hellhounds strolling around with them. And of course, most stared. And moved out of their way. They carelessly walked towards the food counter, not missing Steve sitting at his table.

 

“How’d you sleep, blondie?” The one with the large ears sticking out called out. “Not too cold out there, I hope?”

 

The guy’s hound glared towards the blond and gave a low bark that sent grey smoke shooting out of its mouth, as if mimicking its master’s tone.

 

Rumlow sneered, but thankfully didn’t comment. They were probably too hungry to pay too much attention to Steve, now. The young cadet was thankful for it. He sighed and looked back down at his oatmeal. It did not look appealing in the least.

 

Tony, on his side, was contemplating whether or not to ask Steve about what just happened. It seemed as though he decided against it. 

 

“Listen, we don’t know each other very well,” he said. “But we’re on the same team. And tomorrow, you’re going to start training with us, so… the least we can do is try to help each other out. If there’s anything I can do, you just let me know.”

 

The man sounded so sincere, it was uncanny. Tony usually went for “heavily sarcastic with an irrefutably wide range of pop culture references” on a good day… so it probably meant that Steve looked like a trash bag right now. 

 

Steve smiled back at him, trying his best to put his troubles away for the time being. “Thanks, I… thanks. It means a lot to me.”

 

Tony tentatively smiled back at him.

 

“Why Bruce?” Steve suddenly heard himself ask.  _ Wow, where did  _ that  _ come from? _

 

“Why… Bruce?” Tony repeated, clearly confused.

 

He might as well go along with it, now that he’d mentioned it. “I mean, you and Bruce, you get along real well--”

 

“HAH!” Tony exclaimed, visibly amused. “You really think that?”

 

“Well, you’re perfectly able to work with each other and spend time together.”

 

“I guess,” Tony agreed, still smirking. “But we do drive each other up the wall half of the time.”

 

“But not in a way that’s… like… damaging to how you operate with one another.”

 

“...No. No, of course not.”

 

“So… how did you know? When you guys met on the island… how… how did you end up taming him?”

 

Tony gave him a long pensive stare, undecipherable to Steve. The young cadet was on the brink of telling his friend to dismiss the comment, when Tony finally spoke in a slow manner, as if weighing his words. 

 

“We… talked,” he started. “But… I guess you could say that I owe him big time.” Tony sighed and looked at his hands, before levelling back up with Steve’s questioning eyes. “He saved me from a witch. Not Wanda, mind you. I got lost in the swamp because I thought I’d heard crying, but… it was a trap, and the damn girl  _ could walk on water _ . I got stuck in the mud, thought I was done for… I felt the chill of her fingers reaching my temples. It was… yeah, wasn’t a pleasant experience.” Tony paused, visibly troubled at remembering. “And then, next thing I know, she’s gone and I’m being dragged out by the collar of my uniform back on firm ground. You have no idea how colorful his language can be when he’s pissed at people trespassing on his territory,” the man laughed. “I ended up tagging along with him, despite him clearly being fed up with me. But fortunately I’m a very likeable guy and after a few hints at all the tools he’d have access to to continue his research in alchemy, he ended up agreeing to the taming.”

 

Steve figured there was more to the story than Tony was letting on. For instance, it was clear that the two had a really strong friendship to begin with. But what with him lying to everyone else about his dragon, he felt rather guilty at having Tony be so utterly honest with him. He nodded pensively, giving his friend a warm smile. 

 

“S’nice,” Steve said. “He’s more like a friend to you than a simple tamed creature.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony smirked. “But don’t you go telling the rest of the team how I almost got done by a witch, Sam’ll never let me live it down.”

 

“Scout’s honor.”

 

They shared a comfortable silence afterwards, Steve finally trying out the tepid oatmeal. The story somehow reassured him, reminded him that to have a tamed creature, one didn’t necessarily have to violently bring a beast down. 

 

“So is something wrong between you and the dragon, then?” Tony questioned.

 

Steve bit his bottom lip nervously. “...No… Yes. Sometimes.”

 

“Wow, TMI, Rogers,” the other man smirked, but it was harmless.

 

“I just… I’m not entirely sure I’m cut out for this.” It wasn’t a lie. “He’s… difficult to handle or understand sometimes. I feel like he shouldn’t be here with me. Like I don’t deserve to be responsible for a dragon.” Another almost-not-a-lie. “I just need time, I guess,” Steve quickly added, not wanting to drain the conversation down pitiful routes.

“I don’t know exactly how you two operate, but you’re a hard worker, Steve. You set your mind on something and you struggle with everything you’ve got to get here. I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit, hell, you’ve made it to Shield and passed the Reaping. Give yourself some slack.”

 

Steve nodded absently. “I know, I just… I don’t know. Still seems weird to me that a kid like me got to come back with a never-before tamed creature. It stresses me out.”

 

“If you think having Bruce around is a stress-free experience, you haven’t seen him on his bad days.”

 

\-------------------------------

 

Once breakfast was over, they each parted ways for Tony had to join with the rest of team for physical training. Steve dreaded that he only had one last day left of being dismissed of it… he was sure that training after all this time would take a toll on his small body. He tried not to dwell too long over it and made for the library to resume his research on the soot and dragons. At the very least, his ankle was doing much better and he didn’t even have a limp anymore. 

 

Once he reached the library, he realized he hadn’t exhausted the multiple books that covered the topics yet, but he was starting to feel like they all mentioned the same things. He kept reading over and over the same information, the same theories, and it was starting to get on his nerves. Stepping between two rows of bookshelves, he started scanning for research essays written by authors he hadn’t discovered yet, when something caught his eye. Between two voluminous alchemy term dictionaries, a small booklet stuck out slightly. Curious, Steve pinched its spine and tugged it free, the small stack of roughly binded papers fitting easily in one of his palm. On the cover (or what he assumed was the cover, because despite it being printed paper, the cover was the very same as the inside) was a strange faded emblem he had never seen before with the mention “Lampblack” written in a small square typeface.

 

Flipping through the pages rapidly, Steve realized that although some notes were in English, most were in French and German. Moreover, nowhere was the author listed. After a quick overview, Steve could tell that these were transcribed notes, the format quite unorthodox and some sentences not even finished. It was quite unpolished, plus there was no library card within. What caught his eye, however, were the multiple diagrams and schematics on alchemy theories he hadn’t read about in any other books. The author seemed to have a profound knowledge about unexplored techniques.

 

Steve didn’t speak German nor French, so this was going to take some time to decipher… but excitement began to bubble inside him when he spotted the word “drachen” amongst a paragraph. Yes, this was definitely going to be useful.

 

He gathered some dictionaries in French and German and made his way back to his desk at the rear of the library. 

 

The process was tedious, what with having to determine what he was reading about and in what language the phrases were written in, but the cadet spent his entire morning pouring over the texts. The section he managed to decipher by the time it was noon was about various processes that had been tested (or that the author had wanted to test) on mythical creatures prior to the invention of the taming soot. Apparently, branding creatures with red hot obsidian had been a very popular method in some parts of Europe, but it had never proven to be permanent. Several other methods were also described, most being creature-specific, and therefore quite inefficient. 

 

When Steve finally got out of the library to deliver lunch to Bucky, he was slightly miffed at realizing that the dragon was still absent from his quarters. The breakfast box he’d brought that morning was gone, but the creature was… well… who knows where. Steve tried not to think about how he would have wanted to announce that he was making probably good progress with his research. He also tried not to think about why exactly Bucky wasn’t there.

 

He left the box by the bed, as he had done with the first meal of the day.

 

He spent his afternoon in a similar fashion, gradually working his way through a few more pages of the book. A lot of the notes were about experiments that had been conceived by the unnamed author, but most had no conclusion notes. Steve wondered if some of these had been deemed too inhumane by Shield and therefore he hadn’t gotten permission to carry them out. Steve bristled when one of them mentioned a way to test a creature’s power through sensory deprivation, the notes saying that some creatures had died and they’d had to cut the experiment short.

 

Steve felt as though he was learning too much about this author and he was starting to think that he or she was a real maniac. Granted, the subtleties of French and German were often hard to grasp for a non-speaker, but there wasn’t an ounce of remorse in any of the vicious acts brought against the mythical creatures. He even had to shut the booklet at some point, rubbing his eyes with vivid images of blood drainage engraved in his mind. Some experiments were far too well described to his taste. 

 

With some reflection, he felt a void in the pit of his stomach when he thought about putting Bucky through any of these. He would never be able to do such a thing to the dragon (or probably any other creature). And yet, Shield had allowed this to happen at some point in its history. The booklet wasn’t dated, but the yellowed pages probably indicated that it had been printed over thirty years ago. Probably. 

 

When the clock indicated that it was past eight, Steve was quite tired of reading about mutilated and tortured creatures. He felt as though he was the one inflicting the damage just by reading about it. Guilt nibbled at him like a parasite, and he suddenly felt like he should do something nice for Bucky.

 

The dragon  _ had _ been kind, in his own way, towards Steve. Sure, he was probably doing it just so that his mark and life would stay safe, but Steve did feel like he was being cared for to some extent.

 

It felt safer to chuck the booklet in his uniform pocket, for he wasn’t entirely sure it was meant to be in the library in the first place. It’d be easier for him to just keep it on his person.

 

After grabbing his dinner and Bucky’s at the cafeteria, he ran back to the dorms and fetched an adventure novel he used to read over and over when he was younger. His mother had bought him this book for his fourteenth birthday and the story had stuck with him since. It was simply called  _ Sea Ventures  _ and it followed the story of a young boy who was raised by pirates. Steve loved that story, hence why he’d bothered to bring the book with him to the Tower. The corners of the book were quite damaged, but the spine still held everything together. He hesitated for a moment before closing his personal trunk and taking the book with him.

 

He also managed to open the janitor’s storage unit and found linen drapes and a pillow. The drapes were soft, and he figured that the dragon could use them as bed sheets if he wanted to.

 

To be honest, Steve wasn’t sure how he managed to inconspicuously bring all of these items back to the Tower. Luck was on his side, no one questioned him or even seemed to notice that he was carrying all of these things down to the basement.

 

He casually pushed Bucky’s door open, telling himself that the dragon was probably still out and he’d just drop everything off and be on his merry way. Which is why he nearly jumped out of his skin when he landed face to face with the dragon who was lying upside down on his bed, his legs crossed up against the wall and his head hanging off the edge of the mattress. His wings were fully spread on either side of his body, their span much larger than the cadet had ever realized. If Steve wasn’t so surprised at seeing him, he’d have found the way his hair was fanning around his head to be quite comical.

 

“I… Hi,” Steve eventually got out. He swallowed.

 

Bucky gracefully flipped around to remove his feet from the cement and sat at the edge of the bed, neatly folding his wings back. “Hi.”

 

“I have your supper,” Steve added clumsily, rooted in place.

 

“Are you planning on sleeping here again?”

 

“Huh?”

 

Bucky just narrowed his eyes at the pile of items the cadet was carrying and gave him a pointed look.

 

“Oh. Oh, no, no. I’m not, I just…” he quickly brought everything towards the mattress and placed it on its corner. “I just thought you could use… these things. If you want. You don’t have to, but if… if you feel like it.”

 

How awkward was it possible to make things? And now that he thought about it, Bucky seemed to already gather the things he needed for himself, if the pool room filled with bath products was any indication. If he’d had wanted bed sheets or a pillow, it was clear that he would have been able to fetch some himself.

 

Bucky curiously lifted the pillow and took the novel that laid underneath it in his hands, examining the cover. He flipped it over, and then back, before giving Steve a questioning stare. “A book,” he spoke.

 

“I thought you could use something to kill the time. I saw you reading, back in the cave, so I figured that you’d maybe like to read something… I used to like reading this book a lot before I got enrolled, so I figured… but it’s completely fine if you don’t want it,” Steve babbled on. To be fair, he hadn’t planned on actually having to explain himself. He’s not entirely sure he would have brought all of these things had he known the dragon would’ve already checked in. Furthermore, this was not like the salve, not exactly. This almost felt like a personal gift.

 

“This belongs to you,” Bucky half-asked, half-stated, raising the novel. 

 

“Well… yeah, it’s my copy.”

 

“You’re giving me your book,” Bucky reiterated. 

 

Now, it was definitely not only Steve babbling awkwardly. “Yes,” Steve replied, confused. “You can give it back when you’re done with it.”

 

Bucky’s attention was brought back to the book, and he flipped through some pages, his thumb carefully stroking the damaged edges of the book. He then proceeded to checking its spine, and then repeated the motion of flipping through the pages rapidly.

 

“What do you want?” The dragon eventually asked, almost curtly.

 

“What do I… want?”

 

“You’re giving me things. You expect something in return, no?”

 

“I… oh, no. No, you can have these things, I don’t expect anything from you,” Steve quickly explained.

 

Bucky rose from his position on the mattress, suddenly much taller than the blond. “But isn’t that the way you people operate? You give something up, and expect payment.”

 

Steve was starting to get frustrated, now. “Bucky, keep this stuff. I don’t  _ need  _ anything from you, I just thought you’d like to have something to do when we’re not training and have somewhat of a more comfortable setup to sleep in.”

 

Bucky smirked, his eyes glinting. “But it’s not  _ just  _ about  _ needing _ something, isn’t it?” He was now getting closer to the smaller man. 

 

Steve tried to take a step backwards, but his heel hit the wall. When had the wall gotten so much closer? His eyes darted to the now closed door, and then back at the dragon.

 

“What do you want, Steve?” Bucky repeated, something between kindness and cockiness in his voice.

 

A few flashes of being trapped by the dragon’s name jinx crossed Steve’s mind, but although the situation did make him nervous, he knew Bucky wouldn’t try his trick again. Well, at least he hoped he wouldn’t. He had promised, hadn’t he? 

 

“I don’t… Bucky, stop. If it’s too much of a hassle, I’ll just bring this stuff back to the dorms.” The blond managed to make his voice steady, trying to gain control over his nerves. He couldn’t get flustered now. He clenched his fists and raised his head to meet the dragon’s eyes head on.

 

“To the dorms,” Bucky said thoughtfully. “So these things are supposed to be for the recruits. Not the creatures.”

 

“Nobody was using them,” Steve weakly countered. This was turning out to be a tremendously bad idea. Why couldn’t Bucky just accept these things and let Steve be on his way?

 

The dragon hummed, now standing very close to Steve. He tilted his head, and the cadet could feel his warm presence radiating off of him. There was no way the dragon couldn’t sense how jittery he was now, so he opted for biting the inside of his cheek.

 

“I’m not in the habit of finding myself  _ indebted _ towards someone else,” Bucky spoke slowly, his smirk still heavy. He smoothly lowered his head down, Steve now backed up against the wall. Not much time was allowed to move out of the way, his flesh hand softly cupped Steve’s cheek and he pressed his lips against the cadet’s. 

 

Steve’s eyes fluttered closed, and he wasn’t sure if his mind imploded with a mountain of questions or if it went completely blank. He was frozen in place, the soft lips pressed against his moving slowly, everything disappearing around him. His heart was thundering on and on in his ears, but now fingers were carding through his hair on the side of his head and just…  _ why was this feeling so good?  _ For a moment of an undetermined length of time, nothing aside from Bucky existed. 

 

The dragon started moving away from the kiss, making Steve’s eyes open back up, and he realized that Bucky was still staring at him intently and probably hadn’t even closed his eyes. The hand on his cheek was still there, Bucky’s thumb moving against the skin close to the corner of his lips.

 

“Would you look at that,” the dragon smiled, tilting his head to the left. “You even seemed to enjoy it.”

 

The comment hit Steve quite brusquely, his insides turning cold. Was this what Bucky considered a trade? Had he only done that so he wouldn’t have to owe anything to Steve? He had trouble admitting to himself how lost in the kiss he’d fell, and so he really hoped that the world of hurt he was feeling wasn’t showing on his face. He shot what he hoped translated as an angry glare towards the dragon, ignoring the tears that were stinging behind his eyes. He couldn’t trust himself to speak, his throat locked up. 

 

He hunched his shoulders and ducked away from the hand still petting the side of his head, feeling as though the touch was mocking him. He abruptly moved towards the door, determined at getting away. Determined at getting anywhere, as long as it was far, far away from here.

 

“Steve,” Bucky called, extending his arm to grasp at the smaller man’s shoulder. “Steve, wait…”

 

But the blond just shot him another cold stare, his eyes wide. Every one of his nerve endings were screaming at him to get away.

 

He pulled the door open so fast, he nearly smacked his head with it. 

 

“Steve. Steve, stay, I--”

 

But Steve was already darting out in the corridor, walking as fast as he could and even started running towards the elevator at some point. Not looking back. Damn everything, he  _ would not _ look back.

 

\-------------------------------

 

It was frustrating. It was humiliating. Steve paced around outside the dorms, welcoming the cool night air (for once). The pit of his stomach still felt like ice. How could he have let something like this happen? Bucky was clearly enjoying toying around with him, and now he’d probably figured out that Steve felt  _ something  _ towards him and wasn’t that an incredibly fun thing to temper with. 

 

_ What  _ was Steve feeling towards Bucky anyway?

 

He angrily rubbed his red eyes with the palm of his hands, trying to slow his breathing. He couldn’t tell if he was more pissed at Bucky or himself.

 

Sure, all in all, it hadn’t been his very first kiss. His first kiss had been with a girl named Hannah back when he was in fifth grade, and her friends had dared her to kiss the skinny kid. Steve had hated that, and tried not to remember that moment of his life when he could avoid it. 

 

Other than that incident, Steve had never been involved in a romantic relationship of any sort, and so hadn’t experimented a whole lot. Why was it that the guy he happened to be feeling something important for happened to be a complete asshole? Admittedly, Steve wasn’t all that concerned about Bucky being male, he was far more concerned about him being a dragon. How did these things work out?

 

Sure, there were loads of stories about romance between human-like creatures and people, but it was still a big taboo. And definitely frowned upon. 

 

He sniffed, somewhat thankful the dragon hadn’t followed him. 

 

After a few minutes of gathering his thoughts back together, he made for his dorm room. Natasha, who was sprawled on the sofa reading, welcomed him in. He tried his best to smile and greet her back, but her face showed that she knew something was up.

 

Without waiting around, he quickly grabbed his night clothes and a towel and made for the bathroom before she could slip out a word, locking the door behind him. 

 

And damn it, tears were still stinging his eyes.

 

As he showered, he tried not to think about how full of care the dragon’s touches were, how he seemed to handle Steve like he was valuable. He made up a mantra in his head, repeating to himself that Bucky was only doing this for his own sake. If the mark wasn’t in the picture, Bucky wouldn’t bother to touch Steve at all, wouldn’t even be anywhere near here.

 

Steve let the water of the shower running for a very long time, losing track of everything going on outside of his head. 

 

He also didn’t admit to himself that the water on his face wasn’t all coming from the shower head. 

 

\-------------------------------

 

Today was Monday. And today, Steve was first to attend mythical creature training during morning and then proceed to physical training with the rest of his team during the afternoon. 

 

He couldn’t say what rendered him more nervous: having to go fetch Bucky, or running ten miles after not being active for almost three weeks.

 

“We’ve got training,” he said without much hint of any expression, handing Bucky the meal box. He’d woken up very early in order to be mentally prepared for this confrontation. Although his heart was running a stampede in his chest, he thought he was doing fine so far. The less emotion he’d show today, the better.

 

“Steve--”

 

“You have fruits and two boiled eggs in there. Please eat while we walk to get to the gymnasium.”

 

“Are you--”

 

“I’ll get you a bigger meal for lunch if it’s not enough.”

 

“ _ Steve, wait, _ ” Bucky said, slightly harsher.

 

“What?” Steve replied, not meeting the dragon’s eyes by a mile.

 

“About yesterday, I didn’t--”

 

“Don’t,” Steve said in a hushed voice. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m keeping my end of the deal, don’t worry about it. Just don’t… I don’t…”

 

Bucky searched his eyes, but Steve was definitely not looking his way. He could feel the blush creeping down his neck. The dragon was about to push the issue when the elevator door opened, revealing two other recruits inside. He clammed up, still refusing to speak in front of anybody else than Steve even after two weeks of being at the Tower. 

 

Steve could sense he was restless from his posture, every now and again shooting glances towards him. The blond was glad, for the time being, that there was always at least one person within earshot as they made their way to training. Bucky was clearly unhappy about it, his wings twitching.

 

Steve was in for a surprise when colonel Phillips entered the gymnasium and explained what they’d be doing today.

 

“Circumstantial adaptation,” came his harsh tone. “I highly doubt that your creatures will be the ones doing the real effort today, but since you all possess tamed beasts, we’ve deemed it pertinent for you to test your skills against your own creature. The entire gymnasium is at your disposal for this exercise, but we do ask you not to cause property damage.”

 

The crowd of recruits and creatures were all standing silently, awaiting more instructions. From the confused looks most were shooting sideways, no one really knew what the colonel was on about.

 

“You will each be given one of these,” in his hands, he showed some sort of soft red collar made out of cloth. “It’s a simple band that you will attach on the neck of your creature. It’s easily detachable by pulling on it. When I give the signal, you will each have to get the collar from your creatures while they do everything they can  _ not _ to let you get it. Again,  _ no property damage _ .”

 

Steve tensed up. And he thought he’d only exert himself this afternoon… things weren’t looking up for his first day back on the real schedule. At his side, Bucky was definitely smirking, which wasn’t a good sign at all.

 

The collars were distributed, and Steve blankly gave it to the dragon, who stood motionless at his side.

 

“Bucky, take the collar,” Steve shook the piece of cloth.

 

The dragon shifted on his heels and tilted his head.

 

“Bucky--”

 

“We start in ten seconds!” colonel Phillips called.

 

“Shit,” Steve mumbled, realizing that mostly everyone else had secured the collar around their beast’s neck. Bruce and Tony were at the other side of the gym, Bruce clearly not enjoying himself in the least. 

 

Sighing, the blond rose on the tip of his toes and wrapped the collar around Bucky’s neck, avoiding attaching it too tightly as it was on top of the bandage the dragon was using to cover up the mark. He did not think about the warmth underneath his fingers as he clicked the collar close. He did not meet the eyes that bore intently into him.

 

When the colonel’s timer went off with a strong echoing “beep”, chaos erupted. Yes, the gymnasium was very large and spacious, but having about fifty recruits actively bustling around and fifty creatures shifting into defense mode wasn’t something walls could really contain properly. The more agile creatures (like one girl’s cactus cat) chose a more tedious tactic where they simply ran away from their masters and let them run after them. The bulkier beasts tended to simply stand and fend off the recruit’s attempts at getting the collar. 

 

Steve shot a glance towards Tony and Bruce and saw that the forest spirit was simply dodging every move Tony was trying to make. He was impressed, he really didn’t think Bruce was that nimble. To be fair, Tony moved quite impressively as well, but clearly wasn’t a match against his creature. 

 

Grudgingly, Steve turned back towards the task at hand. The dragon was still standing in front of him, smiling softly. So he wasn’t going to simply run away.  _ Great. _

 

The blond rolled his eyes, knowing that the entire ordeal was pretty much useless. Bucky was faster and definitely stronger than him. If anything, it would make people question how he tamed a dragon even more.

 

Nevertheless, he tried to quickly jump and reach for the collar with his right hand, but his wrist was grabbed easily and moved away.

 

Still silent, the dragon pouted mockingly.

 

Steve was determined not to let the dragon shift his mood towards him. He was mad. He was hurt. This… training… couldn’t alter that.

 

He gave it a second try, this time trying to circle the dragon from the side and quickly darting forward. Of course, it was all to no avail. Bucky was observant, and seemed to know exactly when Steve would jump towards him. There was no surprise there.

 

They ended up waltzing their way in a mock fight where Steve was at such a disadvantage, it could have been a real comedy. Steve was beyond thankful that the Strike team was too busy chasing their hounds around and didn’t take notice of his pitiful struggle. 

 

His breath was coming in short, while Bucky was still passively awaiting his next move. How infuriating could it get? He lashed out towards the beast, both hands extending towards the red collar, no finesse whatsoever. Bucky easily clasped both of his skinny wrists in the palm of his metal hand, using his momentum to spin the cadet around on himself and pulling him against his body. 

 

Steve flushed, feeling Bucky’s solid frame at his back, the metal arm still holding on to both of his wrists. He realized in that moment that the dragon rarely ever used his metal limb to touch him, the sharp metallic plates digging into his skin clueing him in as to why. This arm seemed much stronger than his flesh one, and Bucky must have been keenly aware of it. As a matter of fact, there was no way Steve could pry his hands away, although he did attempt to do so.

 

“Relax, you need to  _ think _ before you attack,” Bucky whispered in his ear, making sure nobody was paying attention.

 

Steve wriggled his shoulders, trying to break free in response.

 

“ _ Steve _ . Listen. You’re small. But you can move fast. Use it to your advantage.”

 

Releasing him, Steve stumbled forward and turned to face back the dragon. He lashed back at him, angry at being at the mercy of such a being. It would be so much simpler if he knew how to size Bucky.

 

He pretended to repeat the same tactic, but kept his left hand well out of reach. When the dragon easily grasped it, he went in with his left rapidly and felt his fingers brush the soft red material. Naturally, Bucky was still the fastest and twisted his second hand away as well. Once again, he didn’t let go and reeled Steve back close.

 

“Better,” he spoke lowly. “Your eyes betray you. I always know where you’re going to aim.”

 

“Let… go…” Steve gritted out.

 

The dragon huffed and complied.

 

His next attempt was pretty much deplorable and not only did he miss the dragon’s neck by two feet, he also managed to trip over his own feet. He braced himself, waiting for the ground to reach him, but the impact never came. When he opened his eyes, Bucky was hovering over him, his right arm around the cadet’s shoulders holding him a few inches above the floor and his left supporting his weight. His lips were pinched, his frown showing something akin to concern.

 

Steve flushed at their proximity, his eyes lingering on the lips that had been pressed against his the previous night.

 

_ No. Not this. Not now. _

 

He scrambled away from the creature, clumsily getting back up. Bucky looked… confused, if his features were anything to go by.

 

The rest of the class went by slowly, and not once did Steve manage to get the collar off. It wasn’t much of an event, for only a few select recruits managed the feat. Everyone exiting the gymnasium looked quite exhausted, Steve included. Lunch would do a world of good.

 

The second Steve stepped out of the gym, a familiar voice called him out.

 

“Steve! Steve, hey!” Sam’s joyful voice came. “Are you just walking out of…”

 

His teammate halted his stride, now standing close to Steve, noticing that the dragon was just in front of him. Steve suddenly realized that despite talking about the dragon all the time, Sam had never actually  _ met _ Bucky. The moment definitely made his friend’s eyes widen and his phrase went unfinished.

 

“Is this… Is he…?”

 

“Yeah, Sam,” Steve replied, trying not to sound too tired. “This is… err… this is the dragon.” This wasn’t such a great moment to introduce the two of them, what with the tension between Bucky and Steve palpable.

 

Sam started giving him a shameless once over, while Bucky remained stiffly still by Steve’s side, clearly not all that comfortable with the encounter.

 

“His wings are huge!” Sam exclaimed. “Bet you could ride him and he’d be able to lift you up,” he laughed.

 

Steve shuffled his feet, trying not to think about the double meaning. Sam probably didn’t mean it that way anyway. 

 

“And this  _ arm _ ,” Sam continued. “Stark kept talking about how he’d like to take a closer look, and I can understand why, now. How did he get this thing anyway?”

 

Sam went to reach for the arm, but Steve was thankfully faster and planted himself between Bucky and his friend. 

 

“It’s not… I mean, you shouldn’t do that, I don’t think he likes getting it handled,” Steve quickly spoke.

 

Sam smirked. “What, you tamed him but you can’t get him to stand still for a few seconds so I can look it over?”

 

“Come on, Sam, he doesn’t like it.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes. Steve didn’t like the way the conversation was going. If only Sam knew what kind of danger he could get in right now, what with Sam not being a part of the deal. Bucky could easily hurt Sam and not bear any kind of consequence.

 

“Just want to take a closer look, Steve, just make him docile for a few seconds--”

 

“Sam,” Steve snapped. “Shove off,  _ he doesn’t want to _ .”

 

It almost sounded like a threat, and Steve even surprised himself with the strength of his own words. Something was gnawing at his insides, surpassing the thought of Bucky endangering his teammate. In some way, he was also very reticent at having someone forcing Bucky to do something he didn’t want to be doing.

 

Sam’s eyes widened and he took a step back, raising his palms up. “Okay, okay,” he spoke. “Sorry, didn’t know this was a sore subject.”

 

Steve didn’t respond.

 

“I’ll catch you after lunch for practice, then,” Sam replied, jogging away to go meet up with Tony and Bruce.

 

With a sigh, Steve continued walking. The pair made it to the creatures’ lodgings section after a quick stop at the cafeteria to grab meal boxes. Steve could feel that Bucky was itching to talk to him, but he couldn’t wrap his head around that particular situation right now. Physical training was coming up right after lunch, and his focus needed to be onto that. Not on how he wished the dragon would press his body against his again. And again.

 

He blankly handed the dragon his meal and made for the elevator quickly, not looking back and not letting Bucky time to get a word out. 

 

\-------------------------------

 

Physical training, as expected, was a hardship. The recruits were sent off to the obstacle course (of all things) to run a few rounds through the multiple modules. Steve could barely feel his legs after the first round, his calves burning and his knees and elbows bloody from crawling under the barbed wire. 

 

On the upside, the previous encounter with Sam hadn’t tarnished their relationship and his friend was a great help at encouraging him to move forward. As a matter of fact, all of his teammates were quite adjuvant, to his surprise. Although they were all much faster and agile than him, Clint had helped him avoid falling in the mud while he was crossing the vertical beams, and Tony had grabbed his arm when Steve’s foot had lost its ground on the scaling wall.

 

When the training was finally over, his mind was swimming in its post-workout bliss and the thought of bringing Bucky his supper wasn’t quite as daunting. Except for the fact that he’d have to drag his tired body over to the basement to do it. He didn’t think it was possible for him to be more exhausted than this.

 

His reflexes being shot, there was no way he could have avoided the hands that circled around his bicep the second he set foot in Bucky’s room. The dragon pulled him inside completely in a swooping motion, Steve almost dropping the box of food.

 

“What… Bucky, let go of me.”

 

The door shut.

 

“You’re going to leave real fast again if I do that.”

 

“That’s the idea…” Steve mumbled. He didn’t have the energy for much arguing now. All he wanted was to go to sleep.

 

“You’re avoiding me,” Bucky spoke trying to grab Steve’s attention. “You’re acting… strangely.”

 

“Hm.”

 

The grasp on his arms loosened, and the dragon softly pried the meal box from his hands. He carelessly let it drop on the mattress.

 

“What’s on your mind, doll?”

 

Steve rolled his eyes. He couldn’t delve into that subject again. “I’m tired, just want to go to sleep.”

 

Bucky wouldn’t have it. “Why did you alienate that man, earlier? He’s your friend, no?”

 

That’s what he wanted to talk about?

 

“You didn’t like it when I asked you questions about your arm,” Steve nodded towards the dangerous limb. “Figured you didn’t want people to get close to it.”

 

“I can take care of myself just fine.”

 

Steve sighed. “Yeah, but you don’t seem to like talking to other human beings, either.”

 

“I don’t speak to your kind,” Bucky recalled.

 

“And I’m not letting you hurt people here at the Tower,” Steve replied harshly.

 

Bucky stood silent, holding the gaze he finally managed to grab.

 

“You’re not telling me something,” Bucky said carefully.

 

And yeah, Steve wasn’t telling him something.  _ Of course _ he wasn’t telling him. How could he just tell him that that kiss yesterday made his stomach clench because on one hand it was wrong on so many levels, but on the other he desperately wanted an encore. How could he tell him that all he thought about was how and when he’d see Bucky again, but that every time he was about to face him, his heart felt like he was running a marathon. 

 

And so he expertly flipped the question on its head.

 

“ _ You’re  _ not telling me something.” Yes. This was good. He’d get to ask him, now.

 

The dragon frowned.

 

“Bucky, how long had you been living on the island when you found me?”

 

The winged man gave him an inscrutable stare, his lips thinning.

 

“You hadn’t been there long, had you?” Momentum.

 

Again, silence.

 

“That cave you lived in, it wasn’t your home. You’d driven the wendigo out.”

 

“How do you…”

 

“Fury talked to me about it the other day. Shield’s deeply aware of the island’s creatures, and they’ve never had any record of a dragon living there.”

 

Bucky’s eyes turned cold. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Of course I don’t,” Steve laughed sourly. “You never tell me important shit.”

 

“You don’t  _ need _ to know about these things. Trust me.” His wings spread momentarily, and then retracted back, as if he was peeved at something.

 

“Yeah, here’s a good one,” Steve mumbled. “Trust you.”

 

“Steve, stay here for tonight. Don’t go back out there… you shouldn’t listen to everything these people say.”

 

“Tell me what you were doing on that island.”

 

“It doesn’t matter now.”

 

Despite himself, Steve was pretty sure he looked hurt. “Yeah,” he said, staring at his feet. “Nothing matters much to you.” He would have thought that they were building something akin to trust here, despite their arrangement being temporary.

 

When his hand landed on the door’s handle, the dragon shuffled behind him. “Steve, stay,” he asked again.

 

His entire body was hurting now. And his mind was trying to comprehend why this stubborn being couldn’t even muster an ounce of reliance at his expense. 

 

“I’m not your pet,” Steve replied, stepping out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urg, what do you think?? I hope you're not disappointed that the tension between these two is definitely not resolved. Sorry, sorry.


	8. The Pillars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve learns more troubling news about the taming soot, and obstacles keep coming his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another (longer!) chapter! Yay? I guess?
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me, I know I'm not quick at updates. I do try, you have to believe me. I think that if I really DID post once a week, the quality of the fic would drop? So I think it's better if I take the extra time. But... I still like it when people comment that they like the updates, hahaha.
> 
> So much stuff happens in this chapter, hope you enjoy.

Needless to say, the following days didn’t alleviate the strain between the pair. Steve’s resumed physical training rendered him quite exhausted, despite the efforts his teammates were making to help him out. He was out of breath for the better part of the exercises, dragging behind, but determined at keeping up as best as he could. The good thing was that the rest of his team didn’t once complain about his inadequacy, not even Pietro who could now easily outrun every single other recruit without breaking a sweat. It was uncanny how much progress this guy was making in such a short amount of time. Steve couldn’t wrap his head around asking him about it when all of his other teammates kept saying that he just trained more than them.

 

The tension between him and Bucky also weighed him down greatly while he was training, his mind constantly wandering back to the dragon. Although he did keep up with bringing him all of his meals, every time they met, Steve did everything he could not to linger too long. Bucky kept trying to make him stay, but he held his words about his control jinx and didn’t use it once. It relieved Steve that this, at least, seemed to be a solid rule that the dragon would not easily break.

 

He had left the plantain cream he had prepared within the dragon’s lodgings, figuring that Bucky would get around to using it by himself. He often wondered if it was the case, never daring to ask him.

 

While hanging out with the rest of the team, Bruce had told Steve about Shield’s food delivery services that any cadet with a creature could call upon. It sounded really nice the way Bruce laid it out, the way someone got around to the lodgings and delivered any kind of food three times a day, until Steve remembered that Bucky wasn’t tamed and had the key to his door. However nice the idea of not having to face the dragon every single day sounded, it was a bad idea. Not to mention that Bucky would most probably get pissed at him again for avoiding him.

 

It wasn’t that Steve regretted the kiss that had happened between the two of them. He thought about it a lot, if he was to be honest with himself. No, the hard part was actually being reminded about how Bucky would never actually find a real interest in him. What could a scrawny kid like him bring to a dragon anyway?

 

As for Natasha, Steve tried his best to hang out more with her, the way they used to do before the Reaping, before they’d been placed in a team. He decided that it was the best decision to make her get off of his case; eat lunch, play cards, all the while putting on his best “I’m okay, really” face. It didn’t change the fact that she could smell his façade, her brows often knitting together when Steve was trying particularly hard to look joyful. At some point, she even took him aside and confronted him about it, telling him that he could keep his secrets if he wanted, but that he really shouldn’t try to carry everything on his shoulders. At that stage, Steve had been on the brink of spilling every single detail to her, but had refrained when Sam happened to walk by them.

 

Looking back on that afternoon, he was relieved that he hadn’t flinched.

 

Concerning the mythical creature training, it turned out that colonel Phillips was particularly fond of training the soldiers with the collar exercise. The next four classes were spent identically, with all of the recruits still struggling to get the cloth collars from their beasts. Perhaps the man thought that it made a funny picture: all of these supposed soldiers running around like petulant kids and not being able to get to their tamed creatures. In his words, the colonel told them that there was no better way to get to know how their creatures behaved and fought than to face them themselves. It _did_ make sense.

 

Bucky, to Steve’s surprised, kept giving him advice on how he could improve his speed and agility. It was frustrating to the cadet, not only because of his cold treatment towards the dragon, but mostly because _they were good advice_. He did find that his movements were gradually becoming more fluid, more efficient, but he never once managed to rip the collar off.

 

The dragon seemed to find much amusement in sending Steve tumbling to the ground, but always caught him before he’d hit the floor. Steve often felt like a rag doll, being tossed around as Bucky pleased, but the dragon used their proximity to husher some comments on his motions in his ear. That way, nobody seemed to pay much attention to them and it allowed Bucky to speak to him privately. It didn’t help in the least with the cadet getting flustered several times during training, but in the end he privately admitted that it was a good way for people not to notice Bucky’s words.

 

Their séances also made Steve acutely aware of how spry Bucky could be. He seemed to use several forms of martial arts to easily fend off any move Steve threw at him, always very much conscious of his surroundings. He also used his wings as leverage, always using them as anchor for his balance. The entire ordeal was quite graceful. Steve bristled at the thought of combining these moves with the brutal force Bucky had demonstrated the first night they’d met on the island.

 

He could see that his dedication at keeping the dragon further away from him nudged something within the dragon. The more it went on, the more Bucky fought back dirty during training, learning about every single trick that tickled Steve the wrong way, every single shove that got a reaction. However, he never humiliated the cadet in a way that the others would be aware of. No, what went on between them was like a personal electrical current with… multiple power surge spikes. Steve tried his best not to let it get to him.

 

Despite his reduced free time, Steve kept up with his research in the library. The Lampblack booklet taught him multiple things (more than any other book had), however dark and morbid some information was. It was baffling how an anonymously written thing like this could hold more information than most essays on the bookshelves.

 

One evening, Steve stumbled upon information in French that referred directly to the taming soot. The paragraph there described the usual steps to how one got to tame a creature, but delved deeper in the mechanisms behind the process. It mentioned something about needing three “pillars” for the soot to take hold and for a viable bond. If his translation was correct, it relied on compliance, consciousness and bidirectionality.

 

Steve didn’t quite understand at first. The compliance part was easy enough to get, what with the whole submission thing prior to using the suit. As for consciousness, well, did that mean that the creature needed to be awake when the taming happened? And what about bidirectionality? What exactly needed to be bidirectional? The rest of the text didn’t explain further, but a name mentioned caught the blonde's attention.

 

  1. Erskine.



 

Steve had to read the name over three times before he decided that his eyes and the late hour weren’t playing tricks on him. Could this be _the_ Dr. Erskine? Was he the author of this book? The man did speak with an accent, although Steve had never deemed it important to ask him about where he was from.

 

But his accent _did_ sound somewhat German.

 

With his heart hammering in his chest, Steve had regretfully left the library and headed for the dorms. It was far too late to go pay Dr. Erskine a visit, so he’d have to tackle the task during the following day.

 

For the first time in a long while, his head wasn’t troubled by thoughts about a certain dragon as he fell asleep.

 

\-------------------------------

 

The following morning, Steve went to fetch Bucky for mythical creature training. The murmurs of other recruits (and even sometimes the personnel) didn’t falter whenever he walked around with the dragon in tow, but he had somewhat managed to learn to ignore them. People were impressed. Or dubious, still.

 

Steve spent so much time alongside the dragon that he had gradually forgotten how much of a presence a dragon raised in a room. Well, he arguably didn’t forget how this particular dragon made him feel on a personal level, but he didn’t quite fear the dragon like the first night they’d met.

 

Gathering with the rest of the masters in the gymnasium, he quickly learned that Colonel Phillips decided to change their routine.

 

“I hear we’re not doing the collar thing,” Tony told Steve in a hushed voice. Bruce was standing idly next to him, cradling something in his hands. He seemed oblivious to his surroundings.

 

Next to them, Wanda and Pietro were chatting quietly together.

 

“Hm?” Steve replied distractedly, planning how he’d go see Dr. Erskine as soon as the training was over.

 

“People were talking about how there would be some actual _fighting_ involved, today.”

 

“Tired of not getting the collar?” Bruce replied nonchalantly. Steve could now see that the thing in his palm was a water lily, but now that the forest spirit wasn’t concentrating on it, the petals were waning.

 

Without a word, Bucky shuffled at his back, probably uncomfortable towards Bruce speaking so casually to humans. The dragon obviously didn’t approve.

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “I _got_ the collar. Don’t have anything to prove.”

 

“You got the collar _once_ with the help of that grappling hook thing you brought.”

 

“Aah, the sweet sound of bitterness,” Tony chanted sarcastically.

 

Bruce pinched his lips, refusing to counter the childish taunt. He focused back on the white flower and moved his fingers strangely around it, reviving the browning edges. He then lifted it, seemingly done, and glared at his master. “Maybe I felt sorry for you and let you have it,” he said softly, knowing the retort wouldn’t please Tony. “And maybe this isn’t for you after all.”

 

He took a step in Steve’s direction and placed the delicate flower in the blond’s hands. Steve heard Wanda chuckle at his back.

 

“Err… Thanks,” Steve replied, not quite sure what to do with it.

 

Tony eyed the flower, then Bruce, who was smirking.

 

Steve felt more than he heard a low growl at his back and realized that the dragon was pressed against his side, his warm hand subtly (yet firmly) placing itself on his lower back. Bucky was staring daggers at the forest spirit, who, for his part, didn’t seem to notice in the least.

 

The hand momentarily tried to tug Steve closer to the dragon’s side, but Steve resisted and gave a questioning look towards the creature. Bucky was definitely unhappy about the whole flower thing, what with him glaring down at it. Steve cradled it closer to his chest, suddenly afraid that Bucky’d try to crush it somehow. After all, it didn’t mean anything. Not really. Bruce had only given it to him to toy with Tony. Bucky didn’t have any business meddling in this.

 

“SOLDIERS!” Came colonel Phillip’s booming voice, pulling everyone’s attention to the front of the gymnasium. Agent Carter was standing by his side, her chimera scanning the crowd of creatures and recruits, ever analyzing. The colonel’s griffin, however, was pacing around slowly.

 

“You’ll be glad to know that we are changing things up for today. You will be placed in pairs and will analyze the fighting style of your beasts while you pit them in wrestling combat against your partner’s creature.” A wave of excitement and anxiousness flowed through the recruits. “ _Nothing more than wrestling,_ ” he clarified. “That means no magical powers and no drawing blood. Just body strength and agility. Agent Carter will be here with me today to supervise the training, making sure that you all keep your beasts in check.”

 

But Steve knew. He knew for a fact that she was mostly there to keep an eye on the most powerful creatures present (Bucky, for instance), because a single griffin could hardly manage the situation if things got out of hands. With her chimera… well, her chimera _was_ outrageously powerful. It could probably take down most of the beasts in this place.

 

One by one, their names were called at the front for them to pair up with their designated partner. Tony got paired with the guy with the stone golem, and Pietro was paired with a girl with a sphynx. Steve was starting to get fidgety when they finally called up his name, but when his partner was revealed, his stomach dropped like a stone.

 

“Rogers, you’ll be paired with Rumlow,” colonel Phillips stated.

 

A hardy clap on the back sent him forward as Rumlow stepped up beside him, all cocky grin and sly demeanors. The rough movement made Steve drop the lily, but the flower almost instantly turned to dust as it left his palms. Steve didn’t dwell on it for too long, more concerned about what would happen with his opponent. At least _they_ weren’t the ones doing the fighting.

 

Brock’s hellhound was by his side, the large canine huffing smoke out of its nostrils. It seemed ready for battle, if anything. “Hope your dragon here likes dogs,” his master grinned. “Hope he likes to see ‘em _up close_.”

 

Steve ignored him, agent Carter walking by them.

 

The soldiers were then dispersed throughout the gymnasium, each pair assigned makeshift rings delimited by painted lines on the floor. The rules were simple: the first creature to step out of the square boundaries lost the combat.

 

As people got ready for the first round, Steve started to get nervous. He did not doubt that Bucky could easily match up to the hellhound, but he feared that this session would carry consequences later on, whether he won or lost. He shuffled towards Bucky, who was ever calm, and urgently whispered to him.

 

“No magic. You heard, right? Don’t…”

 

“I heard,” Bucky replied back.

 

Steve sighed. “Just… be careful.”

 

Bucky gave him a quizzical look, raising his hand above Steve’s head. He made an aborted movement where he seemed as though he was about to ruffle the blond’s head, but decided otherwise.

 

“ON MY MARK,” colonel Phillips bellowed.

 

Bucky and the hellhound made their way within the ring. Steve and Rumlow stayed on their sides, opposite to each other, awaiting the signal. The entire gymnasium was dead silent, all of the soldiers focused.

 

“BEGIN!”

 

The noise that erupted around them was staggering, all of the beasts going into battle mode and quickly trying to turn the fight to their advantage. For a solid moment, Steve had trouble concentrating on the dragon because of all the movement brewing the chaos in the gymnasium.

 

Fortunately, Bucky looked unphased by it all, but so did the hound. The two creatures started slowly circling each other, probably analyzing the other and challenging their opponent to land the first strike. Within a few seconds, the hound dashed forward, and Bucky easily parried by dodging and shoving it forward by the nape. As usual, his movements were well adjusted and calculated.

 

The hound landed back on its feet, and pivoted to give it another shot, this time baring its teeth.

 

“Aim for his calves!” Rumlow called.

 

His beast did just that, but the dragon effortlessly repelled the attack with his metal arm.

 

As the two creatures continued wrestling (or, more accurately, as the hound continued to lay attack upon attack that Bucky deflected), Steve felt quite helpless in the sense that he didn’t have any advice of value to give the dragon. He was a spectator, witnessing how out of his league this kind of fighting style was for him. He found himself hoping that the hellhound would tire out and let Bucky simply push him off the court.

 

From time to time, Rumlow yelled directives to the hound, but it always ended with Bucky knowing exactly what their tactic was, making the wrestling even more leisurely.

 

Although, something wasn’t quite right. Steve couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but Rumlow wasn’t losing his smirk and his hound’s attacks seemed… quaint.

 

A few creatures had already won their first round when Steve caught up on what was going on. Without any warning, the hound surged towards the dragon at an incredible speed, aiming straight for his right shoulder. The flesh and blood shoulder. Bucky must have been caught by surprise, because this was the first attack he wasn’t able to dodge, and Steve clearly saw the canine’s teeth sink in.

 

With a low growl, the dragon kneeled down from the hit with the hound still gnawing at his skin. Steve’s heart sank. Rumlow had clearly taught his creature to refrain from showing its full strength first hand in order to tamper down their opponent’s expectations. It wasn’t a bad strategy. This, however, didn’t qualm the blond’s nervousness who suddenly realized he had one foot within the ring. His mouth was opened, ready to yell something, but the words died in his throat before he knew what it was that he wanted to say. What could he possibly do anyway?

 

“Watch out, Rogers. Anything in the ring can be used for the fight,” Rumlow jeered. “Doubt you’d be much use to--”

 

But before the man could finish his sentence, Bucky took a sharp intake of breath and roughly grabbed the hellhound by the skin of its neck. In a swooping movement that lacked any kind of grace, he flipped the beast upside down and sent it to the ground like a mere sack of flour. The canine whined, but Bucky’s eyes had suddenly turned blank. He looked at the four legged beast who was now trying to scramble back up, then shifted his gaze towards Rumlow who looked confused and shocked. Without a second of indecision, he roughly lifted the disoriented hound off of the ground with his metal arm and smashed it back towards the hard floor, the poor creature yelping in a high-pitched whine.

 

“BUCKY,” Steve’s words finally left his mouth. “The… Just get it out! Get it out of the ring!”

 

The dragon looked up at the blond at that, but Steve couldn’t tell exactly where his mind was. He didn’t looked as though he was seeing Steve at all. The dragon lazily dragged his stare back towards the hound and made to lift the creature once more.

 

Ignoring all rules that had been set, he curled a fist around the hellhound’s nape and spread his wings widely.

 

One… two beatings of the impressive appendages and he was off the ground, Rumlow’s creature yelping once more as a cloud of black smoke escaped its mouth. All of the other creatures had stopped fighting, not a single pair of eyes not focused on the dragon dragging the hound upwards.

 

People were yelling. Someone shook Steve’s arm. All the blond could do was stare, wide eyed, at this impressive creature. He wasn’t entirely sure he knew who that was, anymore. Had he ever really known?

 

Rumlow was livid, his neck straining to keep his eyes on his beast, while he apprehensively walked in circles. “Get him down, Rogers. _GET HIM DOWN_.”

 

And he wasn’t the only one requesting it.

 

As Bucky reached an altitude that suited him (the ceiling of the gymnasium was particularly high as to accommodate all kinds of training), he peered down at the crowd that was motioning towards him. As he was about to drive the canine back towards the ground, a loud firing sound shot out.

 

The hellhound slipped out of Bucky’s grasp and flopped to the ground, right next to Rumlow, after a fall that lasted for a few seconds. The creature was unconscious, but its chest was heaving up and down.

 

Still alive.

 

Steve’s gaze rose back towards Bucky, who was now landing heavily on the floor in the center of the ring. His feet hit the ground first, but his knees buckled and he found himself on all fours, holding his side. His wings gave a tremor before clumsily folding back on themselves.

 

A gun had been fired.

 

At first glance, Steve thought that someone had shot the hound. But it soon became apparent (what with him falling to his knees and clutching his ribs), that Bucky’d been at the receiving end of the bullet.

 

“No!” Steve’s voice cracked, as he stumbled upon his feet to reach the dragon.

 

Hands and arms circled around him to halt his run. No, he had… he _needed_ to make sure that Bucky was okay. He tried to tug himself free, not realizing that Bruce, Tony and even Pietro were trying to hold him back, telling him to stay put.

 

“I need to make sure… _he just got shot!_ ” Steve cried out, his heart hammering.

 

“Steve, _Steve._ Stop, you’re hurting yourself. Steve, listen to me,” Tony tried to reason with him.

 

“Let me go--”

 

“Steve, you need to stay back,” Bruce tried, growing some sort of root around his bicep to restrain him.

 

Steve wildly jerked his body forward, unable to move. Bucky was heaving, only staring at the floor, and he needed to know, needed to make sure that his wound wasn’t serious… Bucky was his responsibility, his to make sure he stayed safe. His thoughts were derailing, completely forgetting that the dragon before him wasn’t tamed, that this wild creature could cause a mountain of damage to anything or anyone surrounding it. Steve did not care.

 

To Steve’s dismay, a second shot resounded.

 

“NO,” Steve screamed, as Bucky slumped forward. He felt his heart drop, ice spiking his insides.

 

“ROGERS,” agent Carter shout out. It seemed as though she’d been trying to reach Steve for some time. “Get back. EVERYONE. Move out, training is dismissed.”

 

The recruits tried to pry themselves from their stunned positions, slowly making their way out of the gym. Rumlow, with his big hound in his arms, was angrily stepping out, no doubt dragging his creature to the infirmary for treatment. Colonel Phillips was ushering the recruits out, a stern look plastered on his face.

 

It all moved in a space that Steve did not entirely comprehend, as if what was happening around him wasn’t real. Bucky was there, a few feet away, face to the ground and his wings splayed out. An impossible scene to digest.

 

All that were left in the gymnasium were Steve, still restrained by his teammates and agent Carter, placing herself in front of the blond as her chimera was walking towards the dragon.

 

“Don’t--” Steve started.

 

“Rogers, _stand down_ ,” she spoke with an authoritative tone. “He’ll be okay, these were only sedative bullets.”

 

Something unclenched within Steve and he let out a breath.

 

“If your teammates stop holding you back, will you stay _put_ ,” she asked.

 

Steve nodded shakily.

 

Tony and Pietro let go of their death grip on him and then Bruce broke the roots that had encircled his upper arms. Steve wobbled on the side, not realizing how much he had been straining to get away. The chimera was examining Bucky, now, one of its head nuzzling the unconscious creature.

 

“You are dismissed,” their superior called to the three behind Steve, and they all slowly started to walk away. “Rogers, we’ll be taking your dragon under observation.”

 

“Observation?” his voice felt strange. Off.

 

“You saw what we saw. Lack of control over a dragon was to be expected, even with the taming soot. But this... we need to make sure this kind of behavior isn’t to come up again. The board will decide what happens next.”

 

“Can I… stay with him?” Steve asked, feeling small. He strained his neck to look over agent Carter’s shoulder, making sure that Bucky was still there. Was he even breathing?

 

In return, she gave a saddened smile. “You’ll be called when the board has reached a decision. I’m gonna have to ask you to stay out of our way until then.”

 

“Wh- when will I be able to see him?” Words were hard.

 

Agent Carter sighed. “I don’t like doing this, Steve, trust me. But this needs to be addressed.”

 

Steve bit the inside of his cheek. “Can I… can I just make sure he’s okay…?”

 

The tall woman was probably about to deny him, but something akin to tenderness sparked in her eyes. “Fine. But you need to leave and remain on call right away.”

 

Steve nodded rapidly and took the few steps that led him to Bucky. Kneeling, he softly placed a hand where his neck met his shoulder.

 

Warmth. Breath. And then heartbeat.

 

This was good. He could deal with a heartbeat. The cadet exhaled, trying to calm down as best as he could. The dragon looked oddly vulnerable, like this. He didn’t seem dangerous in the least. Which was such a singular sight.

 

As subtly as he could, Steve slid his fingers at the front of Bucky’s upper garment, where he knew a pocket was located. He pretended to examine Bucky with his other hand, until his fingers found the small square key. He quickly fished it out. Agent Carter didn’t seem to pay much attention to the movement. It was a miracle he had the presence of mind to remember the damn key.

 

He stood back on his feet. “I’ll go, now.” He said quietly.

 

His superior gave him a curt nod and he exited the premises on shaky legs. He gave one last look towards Bucky as he left, hoping beyond anything that things would pan out in his favor. The thought of losing Bucky woke something dreadful inside him.

 

His mind was raging as he stepped into the hallway, not really seeing where he was heading. Not that _he knew_ exactly where he was heading. Where was he to go anyway?

 

Someone placed a hand on his shoulder as he was aimlessly walking, making him stop. He first thought that Tony was his interceptor, but the long lab coat told otherwise.

 

“Dr. Erskine,” Steve acknowledged, albeit a tad confused.

 

“Steven,” the man tried to catch his eyes. “Busy?”

 

Steve stared blankly at him, not exactly knowing how to answer. _Was he_ busy?

 

The man in the lab coat hesitated, and then tugged the smaller man so that he’d follow him down the hall. “Come with me.”

 

Steve didn’t object, following blindly.

 

Erskine took him to a private elevator that was only used by some of the staff, but never the soldiers. They reached a higher level of the Tower (Steve didn’t pay much attention to what level, or how many left and right turns they needed to make) before they arrived in what seemed to be an office. Dr. Erskine’s office.

 

He made the blond take a seat in the chair facing his desk, before taking his own place behind it.

 

“I understand that your dragon’ll be detained for some time,” the man spoke.

 

Steve acquiesced, his head light.

 

“I can’t imagined what it must feel like to be forcefully separated from one’s tamed creature. Your bond will feel the strain.”

 

The cadet let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. Because wasn’t that the kicker? How worst would he feel if the damn dragon had actually been tamed? And now that the guilt of not having controlled the situation better was crawling in to top it off.

 

Without knowing where it came from, the older man offered him a glass of water. When Steve took a sip, he felt how dry and tacky his mouth was.

 

“If it makes you feel any better, the board expected you to lose control over the dragon sooner than this. Chances are, you’ll be let off with a warning.” Dr. Erskine took off his glasses and started cleaning the lense with his lab coat. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but the word has spread outside of Shield and some other agencies are aware that a young recruit here has tamed the untamable. I have trouble seeing Shield sending away what could be one of their greatest assets.”

 

Steve nodded, staring at a spot on the desk. The man’s words came and went, and he couldn’t focus on any. Fortunately, his attention suddenly dawned back.

 

“The pillars,” he spoke out, without any context.

 

“Hm?”

 

Steve looked up, a sudden spark in his eyes. “I have questions. About the process of taming a creature.”

 

The man looked taken aback, but didn’t stop him.

 

“I’m just… trying to understand, s’all. This… connection I have with the dragon. I figured… I needed to understand the taming process better in order to understand the _dragon_ better.”

 

It didn’t make much sense, but Erskine didn’t mention his reasoning.

 

“What would you like to know?”

 

“Well, beside the soot circle you have to make around a submissive creature’s neck… I did some reading, and they say that other criterias must be met in order for the soot to work properly.”

 

Dr. Erskine frowned slightly, and if Steve wasn’t seeing things, he seemed a little apprehensive.

 

“I didn’t understand what exactly the book was referring to, but it sounded clear that the tamer needed to do more than just… use the soot.”

 

The other man cleared his throat. “The taming soot’s consistency has been tempered with over the years, and now its composition makes it almost fail proof…”

 

“But what if… what if a taming didn’t go as planned. What… what happens then?”

 

“Are you scared that your taming didn’t take properly?”

 

Steve took a breath, not wanting to reveal his true situation. “I’m just trying to figure out if I did everything correctly,” he lied. “What with me losing control over him during training…”

 

“I’m not the best person to answer this question,” Erskine replied distantly. “There are… _conditions_ . Well, ideal predispositions… for a taming to root out fully. Some people call them the _pillars_.”

 

He seemed to stop talking, observing any reaction that the blond might have.

 

“But the term isn’t frequently used anymore, because the soot that we use is so much more powerful than when it first got invented.”

 

“What are those pillars?”

 

The older man sighed. “Compliance, for starters. The creature needs to be receptive to be under the tamer’s control. That’s why we ask recruits to make sure the beast’s in submissive mode. Then there’s consciousness... or aesthesia, as I prefer to call it.”

 

“Does that mean that the creature needs to be awake when the taming happens?”

 

Dr. Erskine gave a brief smile. “No. Well, I’ve never heard of a taming happening while the creature’s unconscious. No, it has more to do with a mental state. As in, the creature’s brain produces a special wave when it respects the outcome of the taming and makes a conscious decision to be tamed. This sort of signal… it echoes with the soot and seals the deal.”

 

Steve nodded. Well, unlike he thought, he couldn’t say he’d respected that particular pillar.

 

“The last thing one needs is simply a communication gateway. Whether it be through language, or mutual understanding… some people call it _bidirectionality_ , but it’s really all about how compatible you are with the other creature. If you have nothing to bring each other, the taming won’t happen.”

 

Steve reflected on the new information. He wasn’t out of the woods yet, but this was eye opening. “Dr. Erskine,” he spoke again. “How… how would I know if the taming hadn’t gone a hundred percent right?”

 

“Well, your dragon most definitely wouldn’t have come back with you to the Tower,” the man laughed.

 

That wasn’t helpful. “Then… what exactly _happens_ when a taming doesn’t go according to plan? Are there any dangers? For the beast, or the tamer?”

 

“Before the soot was perfected, we did see some… particular cases,” the man spoke slowly, weighing his words. “Most failed attempts only result in the creature running away. But there were a few cases where tamings resulted in beasts being injured and the tamer had to repeat the taming process a second time to seal the deal,” Erskine said, an uneasy shift in his voice. “...and there were some cases where the bond just wouldn’t be sealed and the tamer had to end the creature’s life.” He paused. “Dark times. But I wouldn’t worry about it, if I were you. Your dragon’s taming is an obvious success, seeing as he responds to your command and is here on the training grounds.”

 

The color had drained from Steve’s face, but he tried to keep his composure. “So when a taming doesn’t go according to plan, you either have to… what? complete it or end the creature’s life?”

 

Erskine took a breath and shifted in his seat. “In the rare occasions where a taming is only partial, that’s the only solutions we’ve found, yes. But these cases are so rare and sparse… we don’t have a lot of data on the matter. I’ve only personally witnessed a single case like this, but…” he paused, not meeting Steve’s eyes anymore.

 

“But what? What happened?”

 

“She… well, the girl… I mean, the soldier, she… she’d tried to tame one of the island’s merfolks.” He interlocked his fingers. “But the creature, it didn’t… I don’t quite understand what happened when the soot connected them, but it only worked halfway. And it made the creature incredibly unstable… it panicked and trashed and… it got ahold of her. And it… it snapped her neck before diving back in the ocean and swimming away.”

 

A rapid knock at the door made Steve jump to his feet.

 

“Dr. Erskine,” a muffled, familiar voice called from behind the closed door. The visitor was obviously in a hurry because he did not wait for a reply before pushing the door open. “We’re looking for Rogers, he’s--”

 

Steve stared, confused, at Phil Coulson who had just entered the office.

 

“Oh, well here he is.”

 

The agent straightened out his uniform.

 

“You’ve been summoned in the detainment ward, Mr. Rogers,” he announced urgently.

 

So many thoughts to add to the storm inside his head, and yet things didn’t slow down for him.

 

“Am I allowed to go fetch my dragon back?” Steve was already on his feet, ready to leave.

 

Phil made a strange smile. “We… need you to come in right away.”

 

Steve nodded, about to step in line with the man. Had something happened? Had Bucky woken up? He really hated not seeing the whole picture. He’d almost forgotten about Dr. Erskine when the man spoke behind him.

 

“Steve,” he said. “I trust your judgement but… the taming soot, it’s not…” he seemed to struggle with how to phrase it. “I don’t think you should meddle with it any more than you have to.”

 

Steve frowned.

 

“Just… be safe,” Erskine finished, clearly uneased by the presence of Phil within earshot.

 

\-------------------------------

 

Phil walked him in another underground section of the Tower, though it was clearly not connected to the creatures’ lodgings. Steve had never known about this section at all, making him wonder how much of the training grounds were hidden to the recruits. The lack of windows could be felt, bare walls and ceilings radiating claustrophobia. A damp, static smell lingered.

 

He was brought into a large laboratory where the back room was closed off by a thick glass wall. A commotion was bustling behind it, but it took Steve a moment to realize exactly what was happening. He was hurriedly taken to face the glass and peer inside the makeshift room.

 

His heart skipped a beat when he saw Bucky, well and awake and very much standing, but it dropped when he saw the dragon struggling against a leash that had been attached to his neck. A metallic collar covered his bandaged mark, and he was pulling at it with all his strength, probably trying to attack the three agents trying to get to him. A tremendously thick chain linked him to the wall, and although it looked like it wouldn’t break any time soon, some thin cracks had started zigzagging around the base.

 

The dragon was naked, his garments had been taken from him (undoubtedly when he was still unconscious). Bucky radiated rage.

 

The three agents were all equally scared to approach the wild creature, Bucky’s wings menacingly spread out and his teeth bared. He kept growling loudly, promising pain to anyone who got within reach.

 

“Get him under control, Rogers,” a new voice erupted, stern.

 

Had Fury been in the room this entire time?

 

“He can’t see you from this side of the glass,” the man explained rapidly. “I need you to get in there and make him stand down, if you don’t want us to put him down like the animal he is.”

 

Steve stared wide eyed at the taller man, and then back towards the angry dragon. And then he looked back towards his superior.

 

“That’s _an order_ , soldier,” Fury spoke gravely.

 

Steve sucked in a breath and stepped towards the door that led inside the glass chamber. As he entered, the three other agents looked him up and down, and then seemed relieved. They all exited rapidly. Had anyone at Shield ever been _relieved_ to see Steve approach?

 

His heart was hammering in his chest, but he fixed his gaze upon Bucky.

 

“Bucky,” he breathed. Where was his voice? “Bucky, please, you really need to calm down.” He raised his palms to show that he was unarmed and took careful steps towards him.

 

The dragon glared at him, and then at the fake mirror where he clearly knew people were watching. Bucky huffed, something frenzied in his stance, but Steve’s presence seemed to ground him.

 

“Things are going to be okay, you just need to stop,” Steve spoke, taking two more steps gingerly. “They’re not going to hurt you.”

 

Bucky gave him a look that screamed “yeah, _right_ ”, but slowly started folding his wings behind him. His metal arm unclenched, the mechanism whirring loudly.

 

One, two more steps. One more and Bucky would be able to touch him, despite the collar and chain restraining him against the wall.

 

Steve locked his eyes with the dragon, and finally breached the final gap. Bucky did not reach for him, and they simply stood in front of the other.

 

“I’m going to place my hand on you, so they can see that you won’t harm me,” Steve said quietly.

 

He got his trembling hand in check before deliberately placing his left palm on top of Bucky’s flesh knuckles. The skin was warm, as always. Bucky let out a heavy sigh, and it almost sounded like he was happy that Steve was close. The cadet tried not to think about Bucky’s lack of clothing.

 

After a few seconds, Steve ventured and closed his fingers around the hand, calluses catching his softer skin. He smiled at Bucky. “It’s going to be okay. You’re okay.”

 

Bucky leaned towards the smaller man, but couldn’t get very far because of the chain holding him back. Steve took a moment to analyse how thick the links were. He had to get Bucky out of this leash. He took another step towards the dragon, and to his surprise, Bucky took his other hand with his metal one. The dragon often avoided letting Steve touch his prosthetic, and Steve took it as a good sign.

 

“Good work,” Fury spoke, having entered the glass room without any preamble. Steve hadn’t even noticed him, enraptured by the dragon completely. “Didn’t think you’d be able to manage this so quickly.”

 

Steve turned around, protectively placing himself between his superior and Bucky. He couldn’t… _wouldn’t_ let them keep him like this.

 

“Sir, can I bring him back to his quarters, now?”

 

Fury gave him a mocking smile. “The board isn’t all that convinced that this creature should be free to roam around the Tower, now that it has shown its true colors.”

 

Steve held his stare and stood straighter.

 

“This sudden loss of control on your part,” Fury resumed, “it could have led to actual casualties, hadn’t agent Carter been present.”

 

“It will not happen again, sir.”

 

“It will not,” the man with the eye patch agreed. “If it were to happen again, your dragon will be permanently taken from you.”

 

“Does that mean that the board agrees to let me pursue my training him, then, sir?”

 

Fury took a few seconds. “The board has agreed that you deserve a second chance, yes. But it has also agreed that Shield has been too lenient regarding its security regarding the creature.”

 

_Great, more surveillance._

 

“The collar that your dragon is wearing right now, it will not be removed. You will keep it on your dragon, and should it be removed, there _will_ be consequences.”

 

Steve’s eyes flickered towards the dragon, who was glaring at Fury as if he was the most annoying fly. The collar was simple, albeit it did look rather solid. A simple silver band.

 

“The collar’s been designed to prevent the creature wearing it from attacking humans. It will give out a decent jolt of electricity to the wearer if combat is engaged in any shape or form. The board has deemed it pertinent for your dragon to keep it on until you are dispatched for actual on-site missions.”

 

From Bucky’s body language, Steve could immediately tell that the information did not please him in the least. For his part, the cadet found that his punishment could have been much, _much_ worse.

 

“Understood,” Steve replied, clipped.

 

Fury nodded curtly, something in his eyes telling Steve that he was happy with not having any argument from his soldier. “Good. Then, we will keep the dragon here under surveillance for the time being.”

 

As soon as the words were spoken, Bucky’s hand clasped around the fabric of Steve’s shirt in his back. A silent desperation could be felt in his movement. He tugged, slightly. Steve’s heart clenched.

 

“Sir, I’m afraid I…” the blond searched for his words, urgently trying to find a way to phrase his thoughts. “I really can’t leave my dragon here,” he spoke finally, stating.

 

Fury faced him head on, not appreciating the boldness.

 

“I won’t leave him here,” Steve repeated more firmly.

 

Fury stared at him for a moment that lasted an eternity in the cadet’s mind. Everything indicated that he was going to deny him this foolish request, when “if I see this dragon out of its lodgings for any other purpose than to attend training, he will be brought back here without any warning. Do you understand?”

 

Steve’s eyes widened. “Y-yes, sir.”

 

“Good. Now get him off the chain and get out of my sight,” he replied, throwing Steve a silver key. “And he’s to wear this, from now on. Get rid of those awful clothes,” he finished, pointing at a folded Shield uniform near the door. It probably felt like prison attire to the dragon.

 

\-------------------------------

 

The walk back to their lodgings was terrifyingly tedious. Steve’s relief was basically oozing out of him, but Bucky was obnoxiously quiet, tagging along, his eyes distant. He was also uncharacteristically dragging his feet and the tip of his wings was trailing loosely, making a _sshh, sshh, sshh_ sound as they trudged down the cement hallway.

 

Bucky’s door came into view, and Steve pushed it, but it didn’t open. He remembered then that he now had the key back, and so he fished it out of his uniform pocket and unlocked the door, stepping in first. Bucky came in slowly, his eyes downcast.

 

The door shut. They stood awkwardly.

 

They had so much they needed to talk about. The outburst. Erskine’s words about the pillars. The collar. Where did they start?

 

The silence stretched on.

 

Ever so slowly, Bucky eventually stepped around the cadet, his wings limp, and kneeled beside the bed to grab something. He brought the item back and handed it to the smaller man. It was the _Sea Ventures_ novel that Steve had lent him.

 

“I finished it,” the dragon said, just above a whisper.

 

Steve stared at the book, not exactly knowing how to respond. He nodded slowly.

 

After a moment of stillness, he felt uneasy. The dragon was being extremely quiet and acted so carefully that it was frightening.

 

The dragon must have sensed this, and he suddenly knelt at Steve’s feet.

 

Why in the world was Bucky kneeling at his feet?

 

The dragon unhurriedly wrapped both of his arms around Steve’s middle, his face eventually pressing against the blond’s belly. “Say no,” Bucky spoke.

 

Steve, confused, simply frowned.

 

His strange embrace tightened slightly, Bucky’s horns’ curved side rubbing against Steve’s stomach. “Say no,” he repeated.

 

Mesmerized, the cadet couldn’t find it in himself to move away. The dragon was, unlike the other times, offering him an out, quick and easy and simple. But he found himself desperately wanting this, craving the touch. It wasn’t the right time for them to do this, and he knew it well, but his skin was shivering with the relief of having Bucky back. And he wanted… he wanted this _so fucking much_. It suddenly didn’t seem to matter if Bucky only cared about the mark. Steve was tired of fighting this constant hungriness he felt for the dragon. He dangerously wanted to leave the mark out of his head.

 

The dragon pulled him downwards, and Steve clumsily sat in Bucky’s lap, one leg on either side of his thighs. He let the book drop to the floor.

 

“Tell me to stop.” Bucky rearranged his arms so that they’d wrap around Steve’s skinny frame like a proper embrace. “Say no.”

 

His hands splayed out in the small man’s back, the flesh hand between the shoulder blades and the metal one petting Steve’s uneven spine, and he hid his face in the crook of Steve’s neck. Steve could feel his nose nudging against the artery, before the dragon huffed in a breath, taking him in.

 

Steve awkwardly placed his arms around the taller man’s back, feeling where the creature had ripped two large slits in the garb to let his wings through. His fingers reached the base of the wings, where flesh met the first joint that articulated the appendages. He tentatively caressed the skin there, not knowing if it was a wanted touch. Bucky let out a “hmm” against his neck, probably giving good feedback.

 

After a moment, Bucky moved back slightly so that his mouth wouldn’t be pressed against Steve. He didn’t move away completely, and he kept his eyes away.

 

“Please… please stay. Steve, _please_ ,” he asked, but his hands were barely holding Steve anymore, as if he’d let the cadet up and leave if he really wanted to. If Steve wasn’t mistaken, the dragon was shaking a little, and still wouldn’t raise his head.

 

“Bucky…”

 

“If… I won’t touch you if you don’t… don’t want to, but I can’t… I… Steve…”

 

The words were so unlike him that it startled the blond, and for a few beats he couldn’t remember that he was supposed to give an answer.

 

“I’ll sleep on the floor, you won’t--”

 

“Okay, Bucky,” Steve interrupted. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

 

Bucky gave a shudder and nestled back under his chin, nodding. “I… thank you.”

 

Steve closed his eyes and breathed in.

 

Bucky took a few more seconds to enjoy the press of their bodies together, and then slowly shifted back. His head was still downcast.

 

“Give me your hands,” he asked.

 

Steve did as he was told, not really knowing what to expect. The dragon cupped his palms, as he held them loosely together. The creature approached his head to the cadet’s, resting their foreheads intimately together.

 

“Close your eyes. Keep them closed until I tell you to.”

 

Steve frowned, but obeyed. He could feel this special current that ran through the two of them, and it made him pliant. In this moment, Bucky was all that mattered.

 

He first sensed some kind of spark tickling his palms, and then a soft sizzling.

 

“Open your eyes,” Bucky whispered. His forehead was still against Steve’s, but the blond didn’t mind in the least.

 

As he did, his breath caught. Bucky was still holding his cupped hands, and in the center of his palms, a blue flame hovered. It danced and flickered, and it did not burn his skin in the least. As its movements softened, it gingerly took the shape of a blooming flower. Steve had never seen something so beautifully intimate. He tried to smile, but his face did something strange from being so stunned.

 

They shared a quiet moment, both watching the fiery flower glow and pulse.

 

Steve made a conscious decision not to think about the mark for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I get a unanimous "AWW" because Bucky got flustered and childishly ended the chapter with a "I CAN DO FLOWERS TO, TELL ME I'M BETTER, TELL ME I'M GOOD AT MAKING FLOWERS." Such a petulant child. But we still love him, right?? I hope you still like dragon Bucky. I know I do, for all the trouble he gives me.


End file.
